For Want of Family
by WizardsGirl
Summary: DZ2's Challenge Forum, BarakTheSlayer's Forbidden Child Challenge! Harry is all alone after it's revealed that he's a Parselmouth. Comfort is found in an unexpected place, and fans the flames of hope. With danger in his future, can Harry go on with the dedication of a well-tended flame? Or will the fire within him die out under the strain? GEN
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** I decided to pick up one of DZ2's challenges

IMAGE NOT MINE

It belongs to _**Aireenscolor** _on DeviantArt GO SEE THE ART IT IS AMAZING AND BEAUTIFUL AND WOW

**CHALLENGE: **Forbidden Child Challenge

**CATEGORY: **HP PJO Xover

**PLOT:** Harry finds out some interesting things about those he called his friends, so when a voice in his head tells him to go to Long Island, he doesn't hesitate to get away from the wizarding world. he arrives just in time to see a black haired, green eyed boy stab a minotaur...

**GUIDELINES:**

Harry is the child of a maiden goddess (Artemis, Hestia or Hera)- Must _(Accepted)_

Harry is accepted by his mother, and they eventually have a true mother-son relationship - _(Accepted)_

Harry's old friends turn against him - _(Accepted: Ron & Hermione)_

Evil Dumbledore - _(Accepted)_

Harry and Percy have a close relationship - _(Accepted)_

Harry/Any other than those listed below - _(Accepted)_

Light or Grey Harry - _(Accepted: Grey)_

Other Demigod children at Hogwarts (E.G. possibly Luna or the twins) - _(Accepted)_

**FORBIDDEN:**

Harry/Annabeth

Harry/any HP character

Harry/Luke (Not Homophobic, but no)

Good Dumbles

Harry's friends not abandoning him

Harry working with Dumbles or Voldemort

Harry helping Kronos

**For Want of Family**

**Chapter One**

Harry Potter had never felt so alone. Before Hogwarts, when it had only been him and the rumors the Dursleys, he hadn't been this alone. After all, he had no friends then, and, while he'd felt a little lonely watching the other children play, he hadn't felt _so_ bad.

Now, though? He'd had a taste of friendship, of others caring for him, of being wanted and welcomed in a group of children his age.

All of it was gone, because of a stupid snake.

He hadn't even _known_ he was a Parselmouth! How could he, when it sounded like English to him? But, no, it was his fault anyways.

Ron was afraid of him, not wanting to be near such a Dark Gift, especially when the other Houses were accusing him of Dark Magic and hurting other students.

Hermione thought he had lied to her, had hidden the ability, and, because every book said it was a _Dark_ gift, and books could _never_ be _wrong_, she had left him as well.

He was alone, now. The Slytherins were mocking and cruel (not that it was much different than how they were before), the Hufflepuffs were terrified, the Gryffindors were sure he had hidden the Dark Gift from them on purpose, and the Ravenclaws always looked like they were torn between forming a lynch mob and dissecting him.

So, he had hidden in an old bedroom he'd found hidden behind a portrait of a Fairy Glade, near the top of the Astronomy Tower. His belongings had somehow appeared at the end of the small bed there, and the huge fireplace was always lit.

That was were he was, curled up on the blue rug before the fireplace, staring into the flames and trying not to cry. Annoyed with himself, he snatched off his glasses and dug his palms into his eyes, trying to force the sensation away.

It was pointless, and he choked on a quickly silenced sob, as hot tears began to drip down his too-thin cheeks.

"Don't cry," a soft girl's voice spoke up suddenly from beside him, and Harry dropped his hands so fast his glasses smacked against the ground with a oft cracking sound, his eyes going wide in surprise, before small, soft hands cupped his face, gentle fingers wiping away his tears. In some bizarre rebellion, however, the soft actions made him cry _more_, throat tight and hurting from trying to hold back his sobs.

"Shh," the girl who had, somehow, appeared, tried to quiet him, and Harry found himself burying his face in his hands, and letting go, unable to face this girl who had been the only one to touch him in such a soft way, since he'd accidentally spoken to Malfoy's conjured snake just four weeks before.

Soft, warm arms curled around his shoulders, and he found his face pressed into her shoulder, crying harder than he ever had in his cupboard back at the Dursleys. The smell of smoke, fire, and warmth curled through his senses as he cried, dropping his hands to curl in the soft, black cloth she was wrapped in. He didn't know how long he cried on this strange girl, but it must have been a while, because, when he stopped, his head was aching fiercely, his eyes swollen, and his chest feeling hollow and cold. The girl's arms were still around him, one of her hands stroking his back gently, and another drifting through his messy dark brown hair.

Embarrassment filled him, and he quickly, but carefully, pulled away, swallowing heavily in an attempt to get rid of the lump that remained in his throat.

"Do you feel better now?" the girl asked softly; Harry hesitated, staring sightlessly down at his lap and nibbling his bottom lip.

_Did_ he feel better? His body felt heavy and empty, and, besides his head feeling like it was stuffed too-full of cotton and his eyes hurting, he didn't feel _bad_, necessarily. Just...

"Tired," he whispered, voice hoarse; the girl made a low, humming sound of agreement, and Harry blinked, startled, as small fingers placed his unbroken glasses on his face.

"That makes sense," the girl told him kindly; Harry hesitantly looked at her, now that he was able to see. He dreaded finding one of his classmates staring back at him, already regretting breaking down when it would, no doubt, be used against him, as every sign of weakness seemed to be in the Wizarding World.

The girl looked to be his age, with long, smooth brown hair tied back with an orange-red ribbon, the messy, curling ends draped over the opposite shoulder he'd cried on. Her face was kind, her skin pale, and the clothing wrapped about her looking strangely like a toga, only crossing both shoulders instead of clinging to one, and ending with a hood which lay on her back.

It was her eyes, however, which mesmerized the twelve-year-old Gryffindor.

They were the color of the flames next to them, flickering and warm, and drew Harry in.

This girl... She felt like _home_, more than Hogwarts ever had.

"Who _are_ you?" he whispered; the girl smiled, gentle and warm, and something in Harry's chest, something that still hurt from his friends abandonment, warmed and felt better.

"My name is Hesita," she told him softly, reaching forward and settling her hand, almost hesitantly, against his cheek. "And I have a story to tell you." Harry, eyes wide, watched as the strange girl-_Hestia_, he corrected himself-reached directly into the fire next to them, and gently shifted some of the logs, making the fire burn brighter and warmer, before she pulled her hand back out, unburned and soot-free. She smiled, amused, at his gaping, and he shut his mouth with a click.

"How? What?" He stuttered; she laughed softly, and continued to smile at him.

"The fire of the hearth can do me no harm," she informed him gently. "For the hearth is my own, and my being gives it strength." Harry blinked at her, confused, and she turned to face him completely. "Let me begin my story, with a proper introduction," she offered; hesitantly, he nodded, and turned to face her as well.

"My full name and title," she began, "is Hestia, Goddess of the Hearth, Home, and Family, Guardian of Elpis, The Last Olympian," she said, and the fire blazed brighter in the hearth, the room grew warmer, and felt more welcoming. Harry felt himself once-more gaping at her,bright green eyes huge and stunned.

A _Goddess_?!

She was a _Goddess_?!

He had _cried on a Goddess?!_

"Calm down, Harry," she scolded playfully, laughing softly as he visibly scrambled to obey, cheeks flaring with red. Her hands, just as soft and gentle as before, stopped him from bowing or doing much more than beginning to rise to his knees, and she gently, but firmly made him sit back down.

"Please, be still," she told him softly; Harry obeyed, freezing, feeling overwhelmed. This was a _Goddess_, right here, in the flesh, talking to him. Talking to _him_! The little freak-boy who could talk to snakes. He had _cried_ on her, and she was still _here_, and still _talking_ to him!

"I am not sure if I should continue, now," she murmured, amused even while she watched him with some concern. "You are reacting far more strongly just to my name, than I would have thought you would..."

"Please, don't stop!" He blurted, and blushed again. "I-I mean, it's just, well," he flailed his hands a bit, completely unsure of how to explain his actions, but felt himself calming as Hestia smiled at him with fondness. "Don't stop," he whispered, softly, and hesitantly reached out to let his hand hover over hers, unwilling to touch without permission. "I would like to hear the story, if you want," he murmured; she turned her hand over, and took his, placing her other hand over the top and stroking the skin delicately. Warmth filled him, and he instinctively found himself scooting closer, until they were sitting knee-to-knee, her hands holding his.

"I made an Oath centuries ago," she began, voice soft in the warm atmosphere of the darkened room, "that I would never bear a child. I had no desire for one, had no want for one. I am not my Mother, and I do not long to carry many children and watch them all grow. So, I made my Vow, to remain a Virgin Goddess for all eternity..." she trailed off, and, for a few moments, as the fires shadow danced over her face, she looked guilty and sad and wistful, all together, and Harry found himself curling his free hand around hers, so they held one anothers hands. She looked up at him, fire-filled eyes warm and soft and kinder than any eyes that had ever looked upon him, and his breath caught in his chest, which burned.

"I was content," she whispered softly. "My siblings and family, even with their feuds, loved me. They sought me by the hearth when they needed someone who would listen and not judge, when they were stressed and angry and needed rest. My brothers, Zeus and Poseidon, and my nephew, Apollo, all vowed to punish any who attempted to make me break my Vow. Centuries, millenia, passed, and I was content." She fell silent, and looked back down at his hands, shifting them until she held both of his in hers, and Harry tightened his fingers automatically around hers.

"I was content," she whispered, and closed her eyes. "But I was not truly happy." She sighed heavily, and turned her gaze towards the fire, watching as the logs crackled and embers popped, the flames dancing before the bricks that made up the fireplace.

"...Your mother," she began slowly, quietly, "was a wonderful woman. She was bright and fierce and intelligent, and she loved her family with the strength of a lioness." Harry felt his breath catch, and leaned forward, eyes bright and hopeful to hear more of his mother. Most poeple, they mentioned his father, but never his mother, not really. He waited hungrily for more. "She was the type of mortal I liked the best, and I found myself watching over her through her school days. In winter, I made the fires she sat beside warmer and brighter, I made sure she always had a nice place to sit before the flames, so she could read her books or work on her homework, and no one would bother her." Hestia smiled slightly, before her face softened with sorrow.

"When she married your father," she told him, "she was so _happy_. Her spirit was brighter than I'd yet seen, and she was overjoyed, even in those dark times. But..." Hestia sighed, and her small shoulders slumped. Harry scooted a bit, until they were side-by-side, and leaned against the young-looking Goddess, who smiled weakly at him, looking guilty and sad and wistful once more, one hand reached up and brushing some of his messy hair behind his ear.

"After trying and trying to have a baby, your parents went to a Healer," she told him quietly, "and it was discovered that Lily couldn't have children." Harry blinked, and his brow furrowed, confused.

"But, how was I born, then?" He asked her; she looked down, and smoothed out the non-existing wrinkles in her strange toga, frowning slightly, before the cloth rippled, and changed into a chocolate-colored dress with cream lace flame-like patterns along the hem. Harry tried not to gape (was he a Wizard or not?! Magically changing clothes shouldn't surprise him, after two years in the Wizarding World!), and Hestia continued.

"Your mother," she began, smiling wistfully, "was very intelligent. She was heart-broken when the Healers told her she was barren, but she did not let the grief consume her. She was _strong_, like that," the Goddess sighed, eyes closing as she smiled. "She was so strong, and smart, and her laughter so bright and warm. I..." She faltered, and her mouth tightened, her eyes squeezed shut as she pressed her fingers firmly to her thighs.

"I could not bear to witness her heart breaking," she whispered, and opened her eyes, the fire in them hot and wild with pain and guilt. Harry felt something ominous settle into his chest, an almost dread-like feeling of _knowing_ but not knowing. Like he _knew_ where this tale would end, but didn't wish to know it.

"There was a ritual, Lily found, with help from dreams I sent her," the Goddess said slowly, holding Harry's bright green eyes with hers seriously, earnestly. "It was a ritual based solely on the desire for family, for blood of her own. All that was required, was for the father and mother to be present within the circle, the candles lit, and the wish sent out, and the magic would do the rest." Hestia hesitated, and looked away from Harry, eyes returning to the crackling fire.

"...I never approved of James," the Goddess admitted quietly. "His early years were spent as a spoiled child, who gained entertainment through the misery of others. He was a bully, and, though he changed in his last two years of schooling, I still never wished for sweet Lily to marry him."

Harry couldn't breath. His chest was tight and his heart squeezed tighter.

A Bully.

His Dad was, was a _bully_, was _Dudley_, and everything was a _lie_ and he just-!

Hestia's arms came around him, pulled him down, and he found himself lying on the floor, head buried in her lap as he once more sobbed, hands fisted in the smoke-scented fabric of her dress, as she curled her arms around him as best as she could while he wept over the broken dreams he'd created of his father.

They stayed like that for a while, until Harry was once again exhausted, and no more tears came. They stayed like that for a while longer, until Harry managed a weak sigh.

"What happened?" He asked her softly, unwilling to move from the young-appearing Goddess' comforting hold. Hestia dragged her small fingers gently through his hair.

"When your mother and father called upon the Τελετουργικό της Οικογένειας-that is to say, the Ritual of Family," she translated, though, strangely, Harry had understood what she had said, despite having never heard the strange language before. "I answered the plea. The Gods..." she trailed off, uncertain about how to explain what, exactly, had happened. "The Gods are... _Fluid_, shall we say, when it comes to their magic. For example, Harry, I am not really a child," she gestured to herself, as Harry slowly rolled over to squint up at her with red-rimmed eyes. "I usually prefer to wear the body of a child, because, as a Virgin Goddess, I do not wish to be harassed by the libido-driven forms of men and Gods alike. I appear much less sexually appealing as a child, and so, am not harassed." Harry nodded slowly, as that made sense.

"The Gods are shape-shifters, all together," she continued, absently stroking the hair away from his forehead. "Be it a human form, our Godly forms, or even the shape of an animal, we can shift into them with ease... We can also, given incentive, _possess_ the bodies of mortal men and women..." She seemed to hesitate again, and sighed.

"When your mother and father pled for a child, and I answered, I possessed your mothers willing body. Because of this, when the magic of the Ritual reacted, your mother and I were One, for it's duration. The magic, ah, _encouraged_ your father's libido and, well, you were conceived," she said, sounding faintly awkward, more because she did not know how, exactly, to explain ritualistic sex to a twelve-year-old, than from the act of said sex itself. Harry stared up at her, eyes wide and mouth open a bit, stunned and vaguely horrified.

"S-so, you, a-and my Mum _and_ Dad, d-did, erm, _that_?!" he stuttered; Hestia nodded, and then stared at him with mild amusement as the boy shuddered, and looked vaguely green.

"Well, we shall pass that part of the story, shall we," she offered, and laughed softly as Harry rapidly nodded, setting her hands on his head to still the almost-violent action. "Well, with Lily barren, but myself possessing her body, I was able to transfer you directly into her womb from mine... It is very confusing subject for mortals," she added, when he stared at her, looking both astonished and horribly lost. "Think of it like this: during the Ritual, your father impregnated me. As I am a Virgin Goddess, however, my Vow kept my body from being, ah, _breached_, shall we say. Instead, the egg which was fertilized, was done so through your mother, and I was able to move said egg through me and into your mothers womb, as it was her own eggs which were dead, and not the womb itself. Thus, your father impregnated me, and I impregnated your mother... Does that make sense, Harry?" She asked; Harry looked torn once more, between horror and shock.

"So... You got my Mum pregnant?" He asked uncertainly, sounding faint; Hestia blinked, and pursed her lips a bit, looking amused.

"Yes... I suppose so," she admitted; shock seemed to be overwhelming horror, now that the details were being thrust from Harry's mind.

"So...I have... _Two_ Mums?" He asked, bewildered and confused. "O-or do I have two _Dads_?!" Hestia blinked at him.

"Ah," she started, and frowned a bit, thinking it over. "I would say, that you have two mothers... If I had possessed _James_, _then_ you would have two fathers."

"Oh," the twelve-year-old whispered, and Hestia (his _mother_!), smiled lovingly down at him with her fire-filled eyes.

"I have never wanted a child," the Hearth Goddess whispered to him softly, as she tenderly stroked his hair. "I made my Vows so long ago, and never regretted them. Now, though I have not truly broke them, I have bent them aside so badly for the sake of a single, fire-haired mortal woman, and I cannot regret it. When your mother died, I could not look upon you," she admitted, and closed her eyes in pain. "I could not even look upon the mortals for the decade that passed. My heart, for the first time, was grieving, so I buried myself within the flames of the sacred Hearth of Olympus, and I flew from the grief." She sighed, and leaned down, placing her forehead against the wide-eyed, uncertain Harry's, and smiled weakly when the twelve-year-old lifted tentative fingers to lightly brush her cheek.

"I regret not watching over you, my child, my Firstborn," she whispered to him, pained. "I regret not protecting you, not keeping you warm with my fire, not making sure you knew just _how_ loved you _are_," she continued fiercely, the fire roaring higher in the fireplace. "I will _never_ make such a mistake again, my son. I vow it upon the River Styx!" the air grew unnaturally heavy and still, for a moment, before an even more unnatural wind blew the heaviness away. The room seemed to relax, a log in the fire popping as it shifted, and Harry found himself mesmerized, once more, by the Goddesses eyes.

"...May I," he started, and faltered, swallowing heavily and licking his lips, filled wih such a _longing_ that he didn't know what to do with it. "May I call you Mum?" he whispered, and sucked in a sharp breath at the bright, delighted smile that lit Hestia's youthful face, as she pressed a kiss to his brow.

"Always, my Harry, my son," she whispered, and Harry turned, and wrapped his arms around his only living parent, closing his eyes as he pressed his face against her stomach, breathing in her fire-side scent, and smiling widely against the cloth of her dress as she hugged him back, just as tightly.

He wasn't alone anymore!

He would never be alone again.

**A/N:** Er, ta-da? How did I do? I wanted a bit of a twist on this challenge, and I wanted a _Goddess_ to love _Lily_, even if she didn't really know it was love until Lily had died...

Hestia is the shit, by the way, she's fucking awesome. I don't know if I got her quite right in this, I wanted to show how compassionate, loving, and kind she was, while also showing that, despite her child-body, she _was_ a full-grown adult Goddess. And also, I made her slightly awkward when dealing with mortals. She's a _Goddess_ after all, and she doesn't really know how to deal with mortal children.

Anyways, please send me your thoughts/suggestions/criticisms!


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** OMG THANK YOU FOR ALL THE NICE REVIEWS, YAY!

There has yet to be a single MAJOR complaint about the first chapter!

SQUEEEE!

Okay, deep breaths, girl (Huge, dramatic inhale)

Enjoy the chapter!

OH! Also, I made a bit of a mistake last chapter.

This is NOT _**DZ2**_'s challenge, but _**BarakTheSlayer**_'s. Fixed it in the Summary, as I got the challenge from _**DZ2**_'s FORUM, but yeah, there you go! ^-^

**CHALLENGE: **Forbidden Child Challenge

**CATEGORY: **HP PJO Xover

**PLOT:** Harry finds out some interesting things about those he called his friends, so when a voice in his head tells him to go to Long Island, he doesn't hesitate to get away from the wizarding world. he arrives just in time to see a black haired, green eyed boy stab a minotaur...

**GUIDELINES:**

Harry is the child of a maiden goddess (Artemis, Hestia or Hera)- Must _(Accepted)_

Harry is accepted by his mother, and they eventually have a true mother-son relationship - _(Accepted)_

Harry's old friends turn against him - _(Accepted: Ron & Hermione)_

Evil Dumbledore - _(Accepted)_

Harry and Percy have a close relationship - _(Accepted)_

Harry/Any other than those listed below - _(Accepted)_

Light or Grey Harry - _(Accepted: Grey)_

Other Demigod children at Hogwarts (E.G. possibly Luna or the twins) - _(Accepted)_

**FORBIDDEN:**

Harry/Annabeth

Harry/any HP character

Harry/Luke (Not Homophobic, but no)

Good Dumbles

Harry's friends not abandoning him

Harry working with Dumbles or Voldemort

Harry helping Kronos

**For Want of Family**

**Chapter Two**

Hermione had been petrified, and Ron had broken his nose and screamed at him for it, yelling at him that it was _his_ fault, and why couldn't he just go _die_ like his _parents_ and...

Well...

Harry had set his robes on fire.

It was an accident! Ron had just made him _so mad_ and Hestia had been painstakingly teaching Harry how to access his fire-powers, which he had inherited from her, and, well...

Yeah...

Fire...

_"There is a reason it is the most willful of the Elements, my son,"_ Hestia informed him in amusement, and Harry wasn't sure he'd ever get used to his mother popping up _in his head_ like she tended to do any time he was alone and not near a hearth. _"Anger, passion, determination, excitement... These are major emotions that will affect the will of a flame. You will gain control with time, my dear," _she reassured him as he morosely scrubbed out a cauldron without magic, as Snape sneered coldly at him from his seat across the room.

_I hope you're right_, he thought toward his mother as he ducked his head inside the cauldron cautiously, in order to reach the very bottom.

_"You are __**my**__ son, my Harry,"_ she reminded affectionately, and Harry felt the chill of the dungeon leave him as phantom warmth curled through his body, feeling like his mother's hugs. _"The flame is ours, and it will bow its stubborn head to your will soon enough."_

_If the flame belongs to you and me_, he thought, absently grimacing as a strange blue-green glob of ruined potion dripped from his dragon-hide gloves, to sizzle ominously on the ground before Snape vanished it. _Then why is Floo Travel so horrible?_ There was a feeling of amusement, and Harry's hair ruffled in an invisible wind, the smell of smoke and fire curling around him briefly as his mother laughed in his mind.

_"Fire gets excited, like a young child with a new toy,"_ she explained, as Harry finished his cauldron and moved to the next, with a sharp sneeze from the smell of the ruined potion within it. _"Whether it is excited because it recognized you were my son, from the green-powder the Wizards use to travel, or just the idea of being able to consume something new, the magic of the flame reacted, and will tend to send you off course and off balance until you get better control of it. It imbues a piece of energy within those that travel with it, and, as most mortal Wizards are more inclined to an element, depending on their magics inclination, it will affect them greater or less. Fire is a wild thing, my son, and cannot be caged, only temporarily tamed."_

"If you say so," he muttered aloud, and yelped when Snape sent a Stinging Hex his way accordingly. Sending the Potions Master a dark look (and gaining a challenging eyebrow-raised look in return), Harry grit his teeth and got back to work. _When can I go to one of the Camps you told me of?_ Harry whined unhappily, speaking of the Demigod Camps his mother had told stories of, mostly of a Camp in America called Camp Half-Blood, which had stronger protections than any other Camp, and resided in New York.

_"Patience, my son,"_ Hestia soothed softly. _"You have a Destiny in the Wizarding World, and your education is important. Do not worry, my son,"_ she whispered, and Harry felt her begin to pull back gently, like a fire dying down to a coal, still capable of heat for a long while, but not quite so bright or obvious. _"You are not alone here."_ And then she was gone, and Harry was once more by himself in his own head, forced to focus on scrubbing.

He wondered what she meant, by him not being alone.

**~(Line Break)~**

"Oi! Potter!" A voice called; Harry flinched, startled, and turned around quickly, eying the older Hufflepuff that had followed him to an empty corridor. Feeling suddenly nervous (understandable, seeing as how the entirety of Hufflepuff House was against his _existence_ at the moment), Harry felt his hands heat up, and tried to take slow, deep breaths and will the fire away. The older boy stopped a decent distance off, and watched him curiously, but cautiously.

"What do you want?" Harry asked warily, once the threat of fire had died down. The boy blinked, and then smiled, blue eyes bright as he lifted a hand to ruffle his blond hair.

"My name's Cedric Diggory," he greeted simply, "Son of Apollo." Harry stared, feeling his eyes widen and all the left-over heat leave his hands as he stared at the Fifth Year in front of him, gaping. The boy, Cedric, arched an eyebrow, smiling in amusement at his gaping, and Harry flushed.

"Er, Harry Potter," he managed awkwardly, reaching up and scratching at his scar (it always itched something _fierce_ whenever his fire tried to start). "Son of Hestia..." Cedric's eyes widened, eyebrows shooting up as he let out a sharp whistle of surprise.

"You don't do anything by halves, do you, Potter?" he asked, disbelievingly; Harry blushed darker and shrugged, looking down at his tattered trainers uncertainly. After a few moments, a hand landed in his hair, ruffling the already mess dark brown locks, and Harry peered up at the older student, who was smiling warmly down at him.

"Hey, don't worry, little cousin," he said, and leaned down, resting his hands on his knees, so that he and the Second Year were eye-to-eye. "If you ever have any questions, or worries, you can come to me, alright? I'll probably be more patient then some of the others who're here at the moment." He smiled, and ruffled Harry's hair again. "You are just too cute," he teased, and Harry squawked and blushed brightly, smacking the older Demigod's hand from his hair as he sputtered and Cedric laughed. The Hufflepuff straightened and shook his head, still grinning brightly, before he began to walk away, waving back at Harry.

"Remember!" He called out cheerfully. "If you have any questions, it's probably best to ask me!" With one last wave, the blond disappeared, and Harry could only gape after him uncertainly.

"...Hufflepuffs are _weird_," he finally declared to himself, shaking his head before turning and continuing on his way to "his" room.

He had a hearth to tend to.

**~(Line Break)~**

When Cedric warned him that the other Demigods at Hogwarts wouldn't be patient with his questions, he didn't think the older boy meant _this_.

"Potter," Marcus Flint snarled as he easily held the Second Year up off the ground with a single hand, making Harry wide-eyed and nervous as he clutched the Sixth Years wrist, the hand it was attached to wrapped in a fist in the front of Harry's robe.

"I don't _care_ who your bloody parent is," the Slytherin informed him, pushing his face into the twelve-year-olds, "but if you _don't_ give your blood _all_ in the damn Quidditch game this weekend, I will fucking _murder you_, do you understand?" Harry, wide-eyed, gulped and nodded meekly, only to yelp as the sixteen-year-old dropped him with a sneer.

"I am a son of Ares," he growled down at the sprawled boy, standing tall and huge as he loomed above Harry, "and if I even _think_ you're trying to pussy-out of the game, when Wood and I have one bloody year left to prove who's the better Captain, I will _end_ you. Got it?" He hissed; Harry gulped and scrambled back, nodding rapidly. The Slytherin sneered and stalked off, snarling at a few Third Year Ravenclaw girls when they almost bumped him while he was rounding the corner, making them squeal in fright.

Heart pounding, hands shaking, and flames flickering at the ends of his fingers, Harry shakily got to his feet.

"Malfoy should take lessons from _him_," he muttered, shivering, before he quickly grabbed his bag from the floor and practically _ran_ towards the Transfiguration classroom.

He'd think of the bizarre Ares kid and his demands for a good challenge in Quidditch later. Right now, he just didn't want to get another detention with Snape.

**~(Line Break)~**

"It's a _Basilisk_," Harry breathed, staring down at the piece of paper he'd just pulled from Hermione's petrified fist. "_That's_ why I can hear the whispers..." Cold fear curled through his stomach.

He had to tell the teachers.

It was a Basilisk.

Turning, Harry ran from the Infirmary, Invisibility Cloak flapping around him, and down the hall, letting his feet guide him while his mind connected all the dots it could.

It was moving through the pipes.

Killed by _direct_ eye-contact, none of which it had made yet (Well, except from Sir Nick, but he was _already_ dead, he couldn't die _again_!).

All the spiders fleeing into the Forbidden Forest.

The whispers no one else could hear.

The dead roosters.

Dead Moaning Myrtle and her tale of the large, yellow eyes she'd seen before she had died.

Moaning Myrtles bathroom, with the snake-shaped faucets...

Harry rounded the corner, and found the professors, hidden by his Cloak. He opened his mouth to get their attention, moving to pull his Cloak off of him, when Professor Snape, who was standing directly in front of him, stalked to the side to intimidate Lockhart (who was stupidly bragging about how he knew where the Chamber of Secrets was), and Harry felt his throat close and his body freeze as he saw the message written on the wall in blood.

_HER SKELETON WILL LIE IN THE CHAMBER FOREVER_

Harry couldn't move, he couldn't _breathe_.

A student had been taken to the Chamber of Secrets.

Not _any_ student, either, he realized dimly as the teachers continued to murmur.

Ginny Weasley.

Ginny, who had been looking steadily more ill and exhausted as the year went on.

Shy little Ginny who couldn't even meet his eyes without squeaking and hiding her face.

She was eleven years old.

Harry didn't even think about it.

He turned around, an ran towards the girls bathroom, heart pounding as he did so, lungs aching as he gasped for breath, year of running from his cousin being the only thing that kept him from getting a stitch in his side, or collapsing like a dying fish.

He burst through the door, yanked off his cloak, and grabbed onto the rim of one of the sinks in the center of the room.

~_Open_~, he hissed while staring directly at one of the semi-realistic snake-faucets, and took a step back, chest heaving, as the sinks moved with a horrible grinding sound. Soon, the sound and movement stopped, and before him was a large, downward-sloping tunnel. Swallowing heavily, Harry tried to slow his breathing. Not wanting to risk just jumping down into the tunnel, he scrambled for one of his robe pockets, and barely resisted a cry of triumph as he found an empty ink jar.

Yanking it open, he consciously slowed his breathing, and tried to get his palms to stop sweating, while he concentrated on the trick Hestia had taught him, in one of their fire-summoning lessons. Sticking a fingertip into the open part of the jar, Harry opened his eyes halfway, and, unknowing to him, the bright green of his iris was flickering, like emerald flames.

"_Φωτιά_," he whispered in Greek. _Fire_.

His fingertip lit up, the flame flickering; Harry narrowed his eyes.

"_Φωτιά_!" He snapped, ordered; the flame grew in a sharp burst, flooding the ink jar, and heating it sharply, but, as he was, Harry didn't feel the unnatural heat. Quickly, he capped the ink jar, watching as the fire wavered, before growing steady within it's prison. With a deep breath, shoving aside the tired feeling left over from the fire-summoning and the run, Harry arched his arm back, and threw it down the tunnel.

Glass shattered.

A giant ball of fire erupted.

It burned brightly, and then died away, leaving Harry to blink spots from his vision.

The piper was cherry red from the heat, but it felt comfortable to the twelve-year-old when he tentatively touched it.

Hearth Fire would never burn him, after all.

Everything else... Well...

If there had been anything dangerous down the tunnel, it was dead now.

Harry took a steadying breath, and leaped into the still-hot pipe.

**~(Line Break)~**

The Basilisk was _huge_. The sixteen-year-old Voldemort was smirking at him, and Ginny was unconscious on the floor. All he had was the _stupid_ Sorting Hat, any Second Year spells he could remember while his gut was turning in terror while he ran around, dodging the now-blinded snake (_**Thank you**__, Fawkes, for actually __**helping**__ when I'm in danger_, he managed to, rather hysterically, think as the Phoenix finished clawing the massive serpents eyes out) as it lunged for him.

The snake lunged; Harry threw himself to the side, losing his grip on the Sorting Hat.

Something metal gleamed from within it, and, without a thought, Harry plunged his hand in while scrambling to his feet, glancing over his shoulder at the sixty-foot-long (or _more_!) Basilisk.

His hand wrapped around the hilt of whatever was in the Hat, just as the Basilisk lunged again.

Harry yanked the (hopefully) weapon out of the Hat, and stabbed out at the wide-open mouth of the massive snake, just as his Flames erupted, flooding the long, bronze blade and slicing cleanly through several fangs, before burying itself deep into the roof of the snakes mouth and into its brain, the edges of the cut-off teeth barely touching Harry's robe-sleeve. The snake managed to rear back, yanking the blade from its mouth as Harry's grip remained tight, sending the small Second Year flying against a wall as it gave a final, horrendous scream, and thrashed as it collapsed to the ground in a series of death throes that just _barely_ avoided the still-unconscious Ginny.

Harry, woozy, with blood dripping into his eyes from where he'd hit his head thanks to the Basilisk bloody _throwing_ him, staggered towards the more-solid-appearing Riddle and the unconscious Ginny, pausing to stare down at the black diary that lay so innocently on the floor.

"You _killed_ my Basilisk," Riddle hissed, baring his teeth in rage; Harry slowly looked up, green flames dancing in his eyes as blood covered his face, painting a truly macabre picture as he stared at the wraith.

"And now," he said, voice slightly slurred, "I kill _you_." Harry dropped to his knee, and grabbed one of the nearby fang-fragments. Without a single hesitation, he reared back, and slammed the poison-drenched fang into the book; Riddle _screamed _as a glowing hole tore through his face, lunging towards Harry with shaking steps, reaching out to stop him. Harry stabbed the book again, and again, and again, until Riddle stopped screaming and instead, exploded into bright fragments of light, shattering like broken glass.

Exhausted from the fight, woozy from his injuries and blood-loss, Harry slumped further down on the floor, ending up leaning back on his hands with his legs spread out in front of him, eyes closing. A sharp gasp nearby told him the Ginny was awake.

"Oh, Harry!" The girl whimpered, crawling over to his side as he tiredly opened his eyes to look at her. "I swear, I didn't mean to!" Harry sighed, and nodded at her weakly.

"I know, Gin," he told her softly, and blinked as her whole body seemed to slump with relief as she smiled at him, bright and warm. A musical trill caught their attention, and Harry turned his eyes away from the strangely-relaxed eleven-year-old, and on to Fawkes, who had retrieved the Sorting Hat as he flew to land next to the boy, flame-colored plumage sleek and bright as he peered at the injured Demigod with his deep, black eyes.

Harry reached out tentatively to stroke the Phoenix's chest-feathers, earning himself a low, pleased croon, and he barely bit back a gasp.

_The bird was made of Sacred Fire!_

"Fawkes," he breathed, and the bird crooned at him again, leaning forward anbd gently preening some of Harry's blood-soaked hair away from his face. Harry closed his eyes, filled with the same warmth his mother's hugs gave him, and sighed softly. "Will you take Ginny out of here?" he murmured tiredly, laying down fully as the room tilted dangerously, ignoring Ginny's gasp and demands for him to stay awake.

"I think I'll rest down here, until help arrives," Harry slurred, and watched as the Phoenix clacked his beak at him, before fluttering up onto Ginny's shoulder and, in a wild, _beautiful_ burst of Fire, disappeared with the girl.

The instant he was alone, gentle fingers stroked his bloodied face, and Harry opened his eyes (when had they closed?) to smile groggily up at his concerned, but smiling, mother.

"Mum," he whispered, and Hestia leaned down to kiss his forehead.

"I am so _proud_ of you, my Harry," she whispered, and Harry felt light inside, and a joy he'd never known before made his heart _soar_.

He'd made his Mum proud!

"I'll get blood on you," he warned weakly, as Hestia gently lifted his head to her lap.

"It'll come out," she told him absently, feeling gently along the edges of his head-injuries, her flame-filled eyes taking in all his injuries with the intensity of a forest fire, burning fiercely.

"You should not have had to come down here, Harry," she whispered fiercely, kind face dark with disapproval. "The supposed Headmaster of this school _knew_ where the Chamber was, and what lay within it! His Phoenix could Flamed him here at any time and, with a single spell, could have conjured a rooster to crow and kill the beast," the room began to heat rapidly as Hestia's tiny hands clenched into fists, hunching over her son to rest her forehead against his blood-tacky brow.

"He could have ended it _all_," she hissed bitterly, "but he would rather _test_ you, _my_ Firstborn..." Harry blinked uncertainly at that, and bit his lip, unhappy with the knowledge (actually, not unhappy. Instead, he was hurt, confused, _betrayed_, and angry, rather than _just_ _**unhappy**_) that his _Headmaster_, a man he had respected since he had _arrived_ in the Wizarding World, had _used_ Ginny Weasley's _life_ as a bloody _test_.

Worst of all, however, was the knowledge that the man, and his _test_, had worried Hestia, had upset her, made her _angry_, and _that_ was something Harry _never_ wanted. His mother was kind, gentle, empathetic, compassionate, and _wonderful_.

She should _never_ be unhappy, or angry.

_Never_.

"I got you a present," he blurted; Hestia blinked, her angry abruptly pushed away so she could blink down at her Firstborn son in befuddlement. Smiling shyly, Harry pointed, and Hestia followed his gesture, to stare at the dead Basilisk with a blink. "Happy belated Mother's Day," he told her; Hestia looked down at him, wide-eyed, before, slowly, a bright, loving smile lit her face, fire-filled eyes glowing brightly, and all the torches (those lit and not) in the room flared to life with high, abnormally bright lights.

"I think this is the best gift I've ever been given," she whispered, leaning down to kiss his forehead, "and all because it's from you," she finished in a whisper, gently setting his head down, before she disappeared in a bright flash of fire, just as Fawkes re-appeared, Snape and Madame Pomfrey in tow.

"Mr. Potter!" the older Healer cried, dismayed, and all Harry could do was offer her a bright smile. The stern matron dropped her hands to her hips and frowned heavily down at him. "I swear, if you keep this up, Mr. Potter, I _will_ have a bed named and placed _just_ for you, do you understand?" Harry's grin widened.

"If you say so, Madame Pomfrey," he replied cheekily, and was still grinning when the matronly Witch rolled her eyes, and cast a Sleeping Spell on him.

As he sank into darkness, the last thing he heard, was Snape muttering.

"Where the bloody hell is the snake?"

**~(Line Break)~**

"_You_, Potter, get into _way_ too much trouble," Cedric declared cheerfully as he helped Harry carry his things to his room.

"I know," Harry replied simply, carefully moving his crutches over the stone floor (he had fractured his hip, when the Basilisk had tossed him into the wall, and Madame Pomfrey refused to let him walk around without the crutches, in case the healed bone was weak.).

"And _how_ did you find a private room?" The son of Apollo demanded, bewildered as the Second Year stroked a finger down the curling vine on the bottom right corner of the Fairy Glade frame, making it swing inwards.

"That would be my doing, young Demigod," an easy voice greeted as the two boys stepped fully into the room, and Harry felt a bright grin curl his bruised cheeks. Hestia was kneeling comfortably on his favorite blue rug, calmly tending the fire, and giving the room (which was only about the size of the Dursleys living room) a warm, welcoming glow.

"L-Lady Hestia!" Cedric stuttered, gaping as he stared at the Goddess, who was wearing the form of an eight-year-old this day.

"Hello, Mum," Harry greeted cheerfully, hobbling over and giving the smiling Goddess a kiss on the cheek when she stood to greet him.

"Hello, my son," she replied, kissing him on the forehead, before casting the still-gaping Hufflepuff a kind smile, making him flushed and hurry into a deep bow.

"Cedric Diggory, ma'am," he managed quickly. "Son of-"

"Apollo, yes," she said, smile widening as he looked up at her, still bowing, eyes wide. "You have your fathers smile, young Cedric." The fifteen-year-old blushed brightly, and sputtered out a garbled "thank you, Lady Hestia" before Harry's helpless giggling distracted the blond, who found himself giggling and the mischievous grin Hestia had while Harry leaned against her shoulder for support while he giggled.

"Oh, I see how it is!" The Hufflepuff declared dramatically, a smile curling his lips as he finally broke away from his embarrassment. "Picking on the Hufflepuff, huh?" Just you wait, Harry," he teased, and wiggled his fingers in claw-like motions, making the younger Demigod laugh even harder. "I'll get you next year in Quidditch, just you wait!" Before chuckling as Hestia had to help Harry down onto the rug, because he was laughing too hard for the crutches to be safe.

Once Harry's laughter had, finally, died off (he blamed the giggling on the potions Madame Pomfrey had made him drink before he'd left her care. He did not _giggle_!), Hestia pointed to his closed trunk, and Hedwig's empty cage.

"All of that will be traveling with you when I take you to Camp Half-Blood, Harry," the Goddess informed him easily, as Cedric moved carefully around the room to admire the artistic brick-work (some of the bricks had been spelled different colors, making several mural of flames on the walls around the bed, all in different colors). "The sword you pulled from that hat is in your trunk, just look for the red pen. It's been spelled so that ordinary mortals won't notice it, and to return to your pocket any time you drop or lose it." Cedric turned and blinked at Harry, startled.

"You're going to one of the Camps for the summer?" he asked; confused, Harry looked up at the older male from where he was stoking the fire absently.

"Aren't you?" He asked in return; Cedric looked suddenly sheepish, and dragged his fingers through his hair.

"Ah, I forgot you don't live with a Wizarding Family," he replied sheepishly, before padding over and claiming the only chair in the room, leaning his forearms on his knees as Harry turned to face him, flames dancing faintly in his eyes, while Hestia took over the fire with a fond shake of her head. "Demigods who live with Wizarding Families don't have to worry about getting protection from Monsters like Muggle, Muggleborn, and Muggle-Raised half-gods do," he told the younger boy honestly. "Adult Wizards tend to give off a sort of scent, you see, which tends to warn off all but the more humanoid of Monsters, such as Vampires and Werewolves, and the purely Magical Creatures, which you see in everyday Wizarding life, for the most part. Monsters who hunt half-blood will be extremely reluctant to go anywhere near a Wizarding Home, especially when they're heavily protected. However, if you _don't_ live with a Wizarding Family, then it's much safer to spend the summer in one of the Camp's across the pond." Harry nodded slowly, looking thoughtful, before yelping in surprise when Hestia tugged on a lock of his hair, getting his attention.

"We'll be leaving from the train station straight to America," she informed him simply, easily. "So, once you've left the train, I'll be there to flame you over. Until then," she leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Do _try_ and stay out of trouble, my dear. One would think you were a child of Hermes, with all the mischief you get into." With a teasing smile, the Goddess waved at Cedric, and disappeared in a flash of flames, the hearth fire growing larger and brighter in response, curling heat over Harry's back and around his shoulders like a hug.

"... I like your Mum, Harry," Cedric told him, and Harry didn't bother to hide his bright, proud grin.

"Me too, Cedric," he declared happily. "Me too."

**~(Line Break)~**

The train pulled into King's Cross Station with little drama. Ron and Hermione had tried to get a seat with Harry, but had been effectively chased off by Cedric and his group of friends, who had invited Harry into a game of Exploding Snap (which had quickly turned into a sort of playful brawl that led to Cedric laughingly guarding Harry so the still-bruised boy didn't get involved or further injured). Malfoy had stopped by to sneer at them, but, with the group of five Fifth Year boys, and two Sixth Year girls, he had stalked off with his nose in the air (and promptly ran into Flint on a warpath, who had proceeded to tear into the blond about practicing Quidditch over the summer so that they could pummel Wood into the ground in his final year... Harry couldn't help but wonder aloud why Flint was so obsessed with beating Oliver at the game, which had led to snickering and leering from a few of the Hufflepuffs, which only confused Harry _more_).

All together, despite having to leave Hogwarts, Harry was happy and relaxed when he stepped off the train. There, a beautiful young woman, who looked about twenty-five, with long, messy brown hair and wearing a tan blouse and black jeans, sunglasses covering her eyes, had wrapped him in a hug without so much as a by-your-leave, enveloping him the scent of fire and smoke and making him beam.

"Mum," he breathed, hugging her back tightly; she kissed his temple.

"Shall we go, my Harry?" she asked with a sweet smile, pulling back and shrinking his trunk with a twitch of a "wand" (which, upon closer inspection, had Harry snickering because it was actually a dark-colored chopstick), and putting it in his pocket,

"Let's go," he agreed happily, and the Goddess led him over to a group of fireplaces, and threw in a bit of Floo-powder before pulling Harry in with her and murmuring something no one besides the two of them could catch.

In a whirl of bright green flames, they disappeared, not even realizing that one Albus Dumbledore was, at that _exact_ moment, sending a letter filled with compulsion charms to the Dursley Residence, and feeling rather pleased with himself in the supposed knowledge that his little weapon would be properly cowed by the time he returned to Hogwarts the next year.

Now, if only he could figure out _why_ Fawkes had taken to incinerating all his lemon drops...

**A/N:** Wow, there is a LOT of feedback on just the first chapter!

Well, I hope you enjoyed this one!

What did you guys think about my Hogwarts Demigods? I wanted to go a different route, you know?

Any questions/suggestions/criticisms?

(Also, I hope that this chapter helped answer your one criticism, _**EmeraldFlames4**_. When the Gods want something, they get it)

Don't forget to Review!


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Yay, more nice reviews! ^-^

I love you guys.

I'm going to answer some of y'alls questions at the **bottom of the chapter**, okay? Kewl. ^-^

Enjoy the Chapter!

Don't forget to Review!

ALSO!

**FORBIDDEN IN THIS CHALLENGE:**

**Harry/Annabeth** _(No one's asked for this yet, but just so you know)_

**Harry/any HP character** _(Sorry to the reviewers who want the Harry/Daphne pairing, or any other HP/HP Char pairing)_

**Harry/Luke** **(Not Homophobic, but no)** _(I'll make them friendly, though, because that's a part of Harry and his Mother, who was known to be sympathetic with ALL the Gods, INCLUDING Hades, so friendship, yay! Also, according to the Challenger, this does __**not**__ mean No Slash, just No Luke, so if you have any requests, have at them)_

**Good Dumbles**

**Harry's friends not abandoning him**

**Harry working with Dumbles or Voldemort**

**Harry helping Kronos** _(Dude, if even Hestia disapproved of his actions, and Hestia is, like, the most sympathetic & empathetic and easy-going of the Gods, you __**know**__ he's a bad guy)_

I hope that helps answer some questions. More specific questions will be put at the bottom!

ALSO:

**When I Started Typing This Chapter:**

**Reviews** - 43

**Favorites** - 108

**Follows** - 119

**Communities** - 5

**Views** - 1,659

**For Want of Family**

**Chapter Three**

Harry was nervous, constantly glancing at the map Hestia had given him. She hadn't been able to Flame him directly to the Camp, not because she _couldn't_ power-wise, but because it was seemingly a Rite of Passage for a Demigod to make it to the Camp under their own power. Instead, she had dropped him off about ten miles away, with a detailed-yet-easy-to-follow map (Really, it was awesome, with little moving footprints naming where he was, and a large flame where Camp Half-Blood was. Any Monsters would show up as red triangles, and he had already managed to avoid three so far).

He'd managed to get a ride in the back of a pick-up truck that was carrying several cages filled with bunnies, and the driver (a very nice old woman named Mauve) had given him a tin of slightly-stale sugar-cookies to eat on the drive. He was a quarter-mile from the Camp, and was worried.

After all, there were three small red triangles quickly approaching them, and Harry didn't really know what to do. He had his sword-pen, but no _actual_ training with it, and, well...

He honestly just didn't want to fight.

Not _only_ was his body still recuperating from the Basilisk, but he had never, genuinely, liked violence. He was all for a shouting match, and maybe, if he was angry enough, to throw a punch, but this...

This would be a _deliberate_ fight, with lives on the line.

He didn't like the idea.

The truck pulled to a stop at the bottom of a rather steep hill, and Harry had enough time to thank Mauve and wave her off, before he heard snarling from the opposite side of the road. He didn't hesitate, lunging up the hill as fast as he could, as three large, black dogs with fire-red eyes leaped from the shadows and took chase.

_Of course it had to be dogs_, he thought, terrified as he passed a wooden sign which read the Camp's name in Greek (and wasn't it strange to actually be able to _read_ something now?). _I __**really**__ don't like dogs._ He ran on, yelping slightly as he felt sharp teeth graze the back of his ankle. The giant pine at the top of the hill called to him, and Harry desperately tried to run faster while the Monster hounds snarled and snapped at him.

Something flashed past his head, and one of the dogs yelped before dissolving into golden dust. Harry felt his eyes widen, as an older, teenage boy stepped out from behind the great pine, gray eyes narrowed and dirty-blond hair rustling in the wind, as he took aim at the remaining two dogs behind Harry with a bow. He fired an arrow, and it flashed past Harry to take out a second dog.

"Don't look back!" The teen ordered him, and Harry obeyed. He knew from years of running from Dudley and his gang, that the moment you looked over your shoulder to see where your pursuers were, was usually the second you either tripped or ran into something or someone. So, Harry kept his eyes forward, and lunged past the teen and the tree, passing through what felt like a static-filled curtain, just as the older boy fired a third arrow, and the last dog turned into golden dust with a low, pained yelp.

Gasping for breath, Harry hunched over his knees, arms and legs shuddering from exertion. The teen darted down the hill, collecting his arrows, before he was back and moving towards Harry's side.

"You okay, kiddo?" He asked kindly, resting a hand between Harry's shoulder blades as the twelve-year-old gasped for breath. Weakly, Harry gave him a thumbs up.

"I _really_ don't like dogs," he gasped, and the boy laughed.

"Not many _like_ Hellhounds," he agreed with a grin, showing off a dimple in his left cheek, before helping Harry straighten up and turning him towards a large, baby-blue house, the white trim looking almost gray in the setting sun's light, with a wrap-around porch and a bronze eagle weathervane turning with the wind. "Come on, I'll take you up to the Big House, so Mr. D and Chiron can get you settled in," the boy told him soothingly; Harry nodded, still trembling and wincing as his bruises ached.

"My name's Harry," he introduced himself; the boy smiled.

"Lee Fletcher, son of Apollo," he greeted in return, showing off relatively-straight white teeth and his dimple once more. "I'm the counselor for the Apollo Cabin, number seven," he added, and patted Harry's shoulder when the younger boy just continued to look confused. "Don't worry, you'll get the tour tomorrow, no doubt."

"If you say so," Harry murmured, and found himself blinking slowly as they reached the steps to the porch. Lee guided him through the house, and past a man he called "Argus" (Harry wasn't sure if Mr. Argus really _did_ have all those eyes, or if he was very tired, but it left him feeling both nervous and curious at the same time, a bad combination if his last two years at Hogwarts were any indication), and into what looked like an office...

A very disorganized, knickknacks filled office.

Harry's Dursley-Trained OCD wanted nothing more than to kick in and clean the whole thing, but he was too tired to do more than stare around himself in mild horror.

"We have a newbie, Chiron, Mr. D," Lee announced; Harry quickly turned his attention from a messy bookshelf, and towards the desk in front of him, blinking. The two men behind the desk looked like total opposites.

One was slouched in a chair looking bored out of his mind, with messy black hair and a scruffy, short beard. He was slumped sideways, leaning heavily on one elbow with his chin on the fist, while in his other hand was an open can of Diet Coke. He was wearing a bright, Hawaiian shirt (neon green with turquoise flowers), which was left open over a white tank-top that had a few stains on it. He looked to be in his mid-forties, and his blood-shot, purple eyes barely even glanced at Harry before they turned back to his drink.

The other was, well, a centaur stallion rather than a man. His horse body was a dark, chestnut-brown, which matched his shoulder-length, curly brown hair, and the neat, full beard that grew on his face. His eyes were calm and sharp, and a lighter brown, peering at Harry from his tall height. He was wearing a brown leather tunic, his arms bare, except at his wrists, where leather bands with golden metal studs gleamed.

"Ah, a new arrival," the centaur said, stepping to the side of the desk and smiling down at Harry, who tentatively smiled back at him, casting uncertain glances at the messy, bored man who merely grunted, uncaring, at the declaration. "Welcome, young Demigod, to Camp Half-Blood," he greeted, and spread his arms wide, making Harry smile a bit more and relax.

"Hello," he greeted in return, and the centaur smiled down at him warmly.

"I'll go tell the Hermes Cabin to get ready for a new camper," Lee informed the centaur, nodding politely to the messy man before ruffling Harry's hair and leaving. Mildly disgruntled, but having gotten used to Cedric doing the same thing, Harry tried to fix his hair fruitlessly. _Maybe it's an Apollo kid thing_, he mentally groused, before blinking up at the centaur when the man cleared his throat.

"My name is Chiron," he introduced himself. "And I am the Activities Coordinator for the Camp. This is the Director of the Camp, who goes by Mr. D, for the most part." The messy man huffed and sat up reluctantly under the pointed stare Chiron was giving him.

"Yes, welcome," he said uncaringly, waving his hand at Harry and rolling his eye. "Just make sure you don't die too soon, the paperwork is atrocious." Harry blinked, and stared uncertainly at the man.

"...Okay?" he offered, and looked back at Chiron hesitantly, relaxing when the centaur rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"Don't worry about his apparent dislike, child," he suggested kindly. "He has been rather antagonistic, these last few decades. His father forbade him from drinking alcohol of any sort, and, well, he hasn't been happy since." Mr. D huffed an irritated breath at Chiron, and pointedly turned in his chair so that the centaur was at his back, making the Activities Coordinator chuckle lowly. "Now, tell me, young one," he continued, ignoring his companions apparent ire. "What is your name?" Harry blinked, then blushed brightly.

"Oh, er, sorry," he managed, before coughing a bit to clear his throat and cover some of his embarrassment. He straightened up fully, and smiled up at the centaur shyly. "My name is Harry Potter, Son of Hestia."

Several things happened at once.

Mr. D dropped his can of soda, the contents spilling out over the hardwood floor of the office.

Chiron froze and went pale, eyes huge and mouth open in shock.

Thunder roared loudly across the otherwise clear skies, rattling the windows of the Big House.

And, above Harry's head, a simple circle made of warm flames appeared.

**~(Line Break)~**

"Hestia!" Zeus shouted, stomping through the hall and toward the sacred hearth of Olympus, where the Goddess in question was sitting patiently in her favored form of an eight-year-old. She was smiling faintly into the flames as she tended them, and, when her younger brother came to a stomping halt, she glanced up at him with her fire-filled eyes, and, still smiling, patted the ground beside her.

"Come, little brother," she said quietly, affectionate. "Sit beside me at my fire, and I will explain everything, and answer your questions." And, much as he and all of their family members had done at one point or another, the God King huffed and obeyed, throwing himself down next to his elder sister with all the grace of a rebellious teenager, earning a chuckle from the Goddess of the Hearth.

"Let me tell you a story," she began, and told the God her tale. As she spoke, other Gods stormed in, only to join Zeus before the fire, listening to her story.

Dark haired Poseidon, bringing with him the roar of waves against a cliff-side, eyes as stormy as a hurricane out at sea. Fair Apollo, with the heat of the sun gleaming under his skin, casting light into the fire-lit room. Even misunderstood Hades, black hair wild with shadows and dark eyes gleaming like the most priceless piece of obsidian, with the snarls of over-protective Cerberus echoing in his footsteps, even _he_ had come to demand answered, and Hestia gave them with the same affection and understand she gave all the Gods when they sought her out.

Even young Artemis, also wearing the guise of a child, came forward, moving gracefully through moon-shadows, hands clenched tight around her bow and revenge in her silver eyes, auburn hair as wild as the woods she hunted in. Hestia told them all, and Apollo named her truthful, though he was admittedly jealous of the mortal that had caught the Goddess's eye, when he and Poseidon had both tried just that before she had made her vow.

"Don't pout, nephew," Hestia chided with amusement, fire-filled eyes gleaming affectionately as the God of the Sun did just that. In fact, his pouting became more dramatic and obvious at the chastisement, earning a soft laugh from the Hearth Goddess.

"Are you _sure_ I cannot smite the boy?" Zeus grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest as he glowered petulantly into the Sacred Flame, and Hestia smacked him on the shoulder lightly with a huff, giving him a stern look.

"Yes, I am sure, little brother," she said firmly. "_None_ of you may smite my Firstborn." There were grumbles from the others, all but Hades, who smirked knowingly and relaxed on the opposite side of the Goddess, legs spread out toward the fire, leaning back on his arms, oddly reminiscent of Harry's own position after his battle with the Basilisk.

"I don't see what _you_ are so pleased about, brother," Poseidon muttered; Hades smirked over at his disgruntled form, relaxed.

"_I_ will see him one day," he stated smugly, and tilted his head back, closing his eyes. "After all, _all_ mortals die, and when they do, they become a member of _my_ Realm." He paused, and blinked his eyes open, turning his head to look at Hestia, serious expression on his handsome features.

"Do not worry, dear sister," he told her with complete seriousness, "when your Firstborn dies, he will be granted entrance to Elysium, and offered rebirth just the same. As he is _your_ child, I have no doubts he will eventually make his way to the Isle of the Blessed." Hestia smiled brightly at her brother, and leaned forward to kiss his scruff-shadowed cheek, earning a half-smile in reply.

"All I ask of you, my Family," Hestia announced as she turned her eyes back to the Sacred Hearth, and tended the flame absently, "is that you do not make a big deal of my son's existence, and do not smite him," she added, and smiled with amusement as Zeus grumbled, the sound of distant thunder riding under his breath. "He is my Firstborn, and I love him, and he loves me. That is all I need." The Gods and Goddesses (Regal, strict Hera, who, Hestia knew, would remind her beloved Harry of his Professor McGonagall, bringing with her steps the faint sound of wedding bells and the cries of a peacock, was standing proud with her silver-streaked brown hair in a bun and her brown eyes narrowed) reluctantly agreed, and several left, back to their duties or hobbies, or to go to the Viewing Pool to gawk at her Harry.

Finally, only Hermes, Apollo, and Poseidon remained, with the Messenger God standing with his arms crossed and pursed lips, blue eyes gleaming with mischief beneath his curly black hair.

"So," he drawled out slowly, gaining the other Gods attention while Harry just smiled and continued to stoke the fire. "A thousand-year-old Basilisk?" Hestia's smile widened.

"It was a Mothers Day present," she replied easily; Hermes hummed, and put his arms behind his back, rocking on his feet from heel-to-toe.

"Wonder what the kid'll get you _next_ Mothers Day," he said nonchalantly, and Hestia found herself grinning, brightly gleaming fire-filled eyes turning toward the mischievous God.

"We'll just have to wait and see," she teased back, and Hermes grinned at her, bright and amused.

"I suppose we shall," he cheerfully agreed, and Hestia laughed as he disappeared from the room.

**A/N:** Kinda Short, yes, but worth it, no?

Now!

**ANSWERS TO QUESTIONS REVIEWS HAD FOR THE LAST TWO CHAPTERS:**

There will be NO Artemis/Harry. I'm sorry, I don't really like the Goddess, bitch is vindictive as hell towards men, and sexist. Also, VIRGIN GODDESS VOW ON THE RIVER STYX, unless she's going to bend it in a way similar to my Hestia, there will be NO sex or children for her.

Sorry guys.

Also, a Reviewer asked for No Slash, because it would "Ruin the story".

Honey, things like that never ruin a story. The way the author _writes_ it, can ruin it, but not the thing itself. Saying that two guys getting together, or two girls getting together, will "ruin" something, is tantamount, in my opinion, to the politicians who somehow believe that a woman's body is able to "turn itself off" to prevent pregnancy when raped, and that it's the clothes the victim is wearing that make them a target.

If you have a problem with homosexual relationships, you have a right to your opinion, just be aware that I have a right to _mine_, and that I, personally, feel that there is nothing wrong with the relationship and support it.

Now, this fic will be GEN for a long while (I haven't decided on a pairing, but, as the Challenge states, it WILL be Harry/PJatO Character. Just FYI). There will be crushes (on girls, boys, gods and mortals, WHATEVER) that won't evolve past a crush. There will be mentions of other characters relationships (which will be slash, femslash, and het) but they wont be BIG THINGS, but background relationship type deals, okay?

Oh, and kudos to the reviewer who suggested Apollo/Harry, because that is adorable, especially considering Apollo's history with Hestia (See Below).

Now:

**ANSWERS TO SOME QUESTIONS THAT MAY OCCUR THIS CHAPTER:**

Why are the Gods and Goddesses so Blah about Harry being born and such? Well, one of Hestia's abilities is to cool tempers and bring peace and relaxation to those who sit near her fire. It's why the Gods, when needing a break, will go and sit next to her. None will fight with her, argue with her, get angry with her, or anything, because she's just too much of a sweetheart, and the most patient Goddess, and too humble to want anything beyond what she already has. She is a content Goddess, and I tried to portray that here.

Also, apparently Poseidon and Apollo had this, like, epic wooing attempt before she made her Virginity Vow, because both loved her and wanted her as their wife, so there will always be some chemistry between them and such.

**When I Finished Typing This Chapter:**

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You guys are ridiculous, omg.

Please don't hesitate to review questions, comments, suggestions, or criticisms!


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Yay, all the positive feedback~! ^-^

Also, the Timeline is Harry's FOURTH YEAR is the start of the Lightning Thief. He and Percy are two years apart, with Harry being older. Right now, Percy is 10 and has no idea he's a Demigod.

Also, more detail will be put into Harry's time at camp, and his Hogwarts Time will be made up of one or two semi-long chapters with Time Skips.

Enjoy!

**When I Started Typing This Chapter:**

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You guys are so damn ridiculous.

**For Want of Family**

(I almost put "For Want of Therapy" and I just facepalmed so damn hard, I kid you not, lolz)

**Chapter Four**

Harry woke up the next morning, feeling very confused.

The night before, after being officially claimed by his Mum in front of Mr. Chiron and Mr. D, Harry had been escorted to the Cabins (all of which were amazing), and taken to Cabin Eleven, the Hermes Cabin, which was worn looking, its brown paint chipping off (much to Harry's OCD disapproval. He made a mental note to paint the cabin, next time he has the free time). Upon entering, he was greeted by Luke Castellan, the Cabin Counselor, who was a seventeen-year-old blond boy with blue eyes and a fresh scar on his face (he had recently returned from a Quest that Hermes had given him, but Harry was too tired to care about some stupid golden apple, though the dragon sounded kind of cool...).

Luke gave Harry a slightly-tattered sleeping bag that smelled a little moldy, and pointed him to a small, empty space on the floor, most of the rest of the space taken up by other Demigods and their belongings. He'd also warned Harry to keep an eye on his things, and then waved him off when the younger Half-Blood couldn't stop yawning.

Harry was in the same place he'd fallen asleep, but, the two campers that had been on either side of him, were now curled up against him and snoring away.

"Erm," he managed, wiggling his arm out from under one of the sleepers, and groping blindly over his head until he found his shoes, pulling his glasses out of them (he'd set them inside to keep them safer, as putting them in one of the small, empty spaces seemed like a bad idea.

"Good morning, Harry," Luke greeted him cheerfully as the blond appeared in his line of vision, smirking at him as he blinked.

"H'lo," Harry muttered, and shifted, trying to wiggle out from under his two snugglers. Luke snickered, and reached down to help him, none-too-gently dropping one of the boy's head against the hard floor, getting a startled yelp.

"Oops," he replied, and laughed as the boy cursed at him in Greek.

"Shut up, Luke," the grumpy boy growled, sitting up and dragging a rough hand through his curly brown hair. Harry absently noticed that both Luke and the boy had the same sharp noses and upturned eyebrows.

"You feel like getting your cuddle on with the poor newbie, Charlie?" Luke teased with a grin; the boy, Charlie, snorted and gave him a sleepy glare.

"Dude, it was chilly last night, and the kid gives off heat like a furnace," he defended himself. "Mark got cold too!" He said, pointing at Harry's other sleeping partner, and Harry couldn't help but snort when the boy in question rolled onto his back, mouth falling open and a short snore escaping him. Charlie seemed to perk up, and a bright, mischievous grin curled his lips.

"Hold on," he whispered, and scrambled away, nimbly stepping around belongings and limbs alike, though he did pause to kick a pair of boxers at their owner (or, Harry _hoped_ it was the owner...). He returned just as quickly, one of his hands cupping something. He put a finger to his lips, and, grinning mischievously, leaned over and dropped it into the Mark's snoring mouth.

It was a Daddy Long-Leg Spider.

Harry grimaced.

Mark woke up with a scream and wild flailing, while Charlie cackled, and Luke snorted and covered his grin with a hand.

"Shut _up_!" One of the other camper bellowed, throwing a balled up sock in their direction, only to hit someone else in the face and get cursed out.

Soon, the Cabin was alive, like an ant hill when it began to rain, and Harry found himself heaved to his feet and into the air by Charlie, who was promptly fleeing the scene before Mark could finish gagging and freaking out. Harry was relieved when Luke appeared moments later, following them out of the Cabin with a grin and Harry's shoes in hand.

"That wasn't very funny," Harry informed the older boy, frowning heavily. "And put me down!" He added, squirming in the older boys arms, until, laughing, he obeyed.

"It was _hilarious_, Small Fry," Charlie told him, with a wide grin, as Luke passed Harry his shoes. Harry huffed at the prankster, and turned his attention to putting his shoes and sock on standing up, without falling.

"As funny as it was," Luke interrupted, reaching out and helping Harry balance when the twelve-year-old tilted ominously. "You _do_ realize that the retaliation is going to be _harsh_," he reminded Charlie mildly, but the other boy waved him off with a snort.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," he said, rolling his eyes before stretching. "I'm going to head over to the Pavilion," he announced, and gave the two of them an absent wave as he began trotting off.

"Sorry about him," Luke told Harry as the younger Demigod finished tying his shoes. "He's a good guy, really. Just a bit of a prankster, but, hey," he shrugged. "Son of Hermes. Comes with the territory." Harry rolled his eyes and shrugged, while Luke shoved his hands in his pockets. "C'mon," he said, and nodded in the direction Charlie had headed. "It's breakfast time, then _you_ need to go find Chiron, so he can give you your schedule, and probably a tour of the Camp." Harry nodded, and jogged to keep up with the taller boy.

"So, quick run-down of the cabins, because you were pretty out of it when Chiron brought you to our place," the Son of Hermes began easily, pointing at Cabins as they were passed.

"The cabin that looks like a bank for old money is Cabin One, Zeus's Cabin. Cabin Two, the one that looks like a chapel met marble and Victorian age, that's Hera's Cabin. It's probably never going to see any campers, of course, as Hera is the Goddess of Marriage, and would never have affairs with anyone, let alone some mortal." Harry winced at the candid description, and couldn't help but nervously remember the few stories of Greek Mythology he'd heard in class, before his Hogwarts letter.

Hadn't Hera thrown her _own_ child off Mount Olympus after he was born?

"Cabin Three is Poseidon's, which is why its the only one on the edge of the lake. Cabin Four, the Demeter Cabin, is the one with the grass roof, tomato-vines all over the walls, and flowers up front. If you ever want to earn some brownie points, you can help them harvest strawberries from the fields over by the Armory and Stables."

"Cabin Five is the bright red one with the barbwire and boar head, and that's Ares Cabin... Just a heads up," he added, glancing down at Harry as they continued walking. "There's a girl there, Clarisse, who was just made councilor. She likes to get a few of her brothers together and give newbie Half-Bloods a 'welcome' swirly." Harry grimaced. He still remembered when Dudley had wanted to give him swirlies before the Hogwarts Letter had come, and the few times he and his gang had managed to catch Harry were... _Memorable_.

"Anyways, Cabin six is the Athena Cabin. Just look for the blue and gold cabin with the giant owl on the door, you can't miss it," Luke continued airily, and Harry grinned up at him in amusement, which had Luke smirking and winking down at him. Suddenly, the seventeen-year-old grinned and grabbed Harry by the arm, proceeding to drag him up a small incline. "You'll love this," he reassured the confused, frowning boy, before taking him by the shoulders, and turning him to face one of the cabins. It was a plain, white-painted, wooden cabin, with nothing interesting about it. Harry looked up at Luke dubiously, and wondered if this was one of the mischievous things he had to look forward to when dealing with the Hermes Cabin (much like he had hair-rustling and dimples to deal with when around Apollo children, and scary bossiness from Ares children).

"Watch," Luke encouraged; dubious, Harry reluctantly turned to face the cabin, and Luke took his head in his hands, and tilted it _just_ right...

"Ah!" Harry yelped as the whole cabin _lit up_, gleaming too-bright and looking as if it was made of solid gold. Blinking spots from his eyes, Harry rubbed at them fiercely, while Luke laughed behind him.

"Cabin Seven," the councilor chuckled. "The Apollo Cabin." Harry huffed at him, and warily squinted his eyes at the once-more plain-looking building. Ready for it this time, he cautiously tilted his head, flinching slightly as the cabin transformed into its grander, shinier self.

"Wicked," he breathed, and made a mental note to himself, to write to Cedric about it. Luke nodded, still chuckling, and took his shoulder in order to steer the boy on.

"Okay, next cabin," the older Demigod declared as they walked on. "Cabin Eight is Artemis Cabin, and will always remain empty of _actual_ Artemis Demigods, because she's a Virgin Goddess," the boy told him, pointing out a beautiful silver cabin that was glowing very faintly. "The Hunters of Artemis stay there occasionally, when they're passing through, and it glows in the dark at night, since she's the Moon Goddess to Apollo's Sun God." Harry nodded, and Luke went on.

"Now, the cabin that looks like a mini-factory made of brick, with the smoke-stacks? That's Cabin Nine, the Hephaestus Cabin. If you ever need something built, machine-wise, or something made, they're the ones to go to, okay?" Harry nodded agreeably, and looked around as Luke continued, wondering if they were walking in circles just so the older boy could continue talking to him. "Cabin Ten is the Aphrodite Cabin... Yeah," Luke said as Harry stared at the fancy, over-the-top fashionable cabin, with its painted roof, blue-and-white checkered deck, and the beautiful girls and handsome boys wearing high-end clothing and accessories, that were leaving the cabin in question in a group. "Well, Goddess of Love, you know?" the Hermes Councilor said, shrugging as if it explained everything, and Harry just shook his head.

He didn't really think his Mum Hestia loved his Mum Lily with a fancy dress. Love was, well, _Love_. No need to dress it up pretty...

Maybe he was being biased or something. He'd try not to judge the whole Cabin based on appearance.

"You've already been to Cabin Eleven, of course," Luke told him, and Harry could see they were reaching the end of the Cabin-area, and moving towards a hill that overlooked the ocean. A strange building rested at the top, though, calling it a building wasn't quite right, seeing as how it was just a bunch of pillars with torches on a marble floor, with lots of tables and what looked like a bronze bathtub filled with Sacred Flame. The feel of his mother's magic within the flame reached out for him, even as he stood near the bottom of the hill, and Harry couldn't help but smile warmly at the familiar, loving warmth.

"The last Cabin is Cabin Twelve, te Dionysus Cabin," Luke was finishing up, and Harry focused on his older... Friend? Were they friends? "It's the cabin covered in grape vines. I don't really know how the vines stay alive, since Mr. D has been grounded from using his wine-powers, but they do." Harry blinked up at him, confused.

"What does Mr. D have to do with anything?" He asked, bewildered; Luke gave him a disbelieving, amused look.

"Mr. _D_," the Councilor said; Harry just stared. "Whose Cabin did I say it was, Harry?" He tried again; Harry blinked.

"Dionys-Oh." He blinked again, and then gaped. "He's _grounded_?" Luke snorted and shook his head.

"_That's_ what you ask?" He demanded, before rolling his eyes and pushing at the twelve-year-old to start making his way up the hill towards what must have been the Dining Pavilion. "And yeah, he's grounded. His Dad's the King of the Gods, so, you know, his word is _law_." It was Harry's turn to shake his head, looking bewildered, and Luke explained. "Apparently Mr. D went after one of the nymphs his Dad called forbidden, _twice_, and now the God of Wine isn't allowed to drink alcohol or play with the grapes for a hundred years. Last time he did, he apparently got saddled with the Prohibition Act as an added punishment." Harry didn't know how to react to the knowledge that the Gods treated each other like unruly children, and instead pushed it aside as the two boys made their way towards the Pavilion.

Suddenly, a thought struck Harry, and he turned to squint back at the trail of Cabins they had just left behind, frowning. Luke paused a little ways past him, and looked back at him, confused.

"Harry?" He asked, arching an eyebrow before wincing slightly as the action pulled at the skin of his freshly-healed scar. "What are you doing?" Harry frowned.

"Counting Cabins," he replied, Luke frowned, brows furrowing.

"Why...?" He drew out carefully, stepping back down and beside the newest camper. Harry's frown deeper.

"Where's the Cabin for Hades?" He asked, turning towards the councilor; Luke stared at him, bewildered.

"There isn't one," he replied slowly, as if _Harry_ was the one being silly; Harry frowned at him, eyes narrowing.

"Why?" He demanded; Luke began to look uncomfortable.

"Um, because he's the God of the Underworld?" he replied, as if it was the most obvious thing; Harry scowled.

"And he's also one of the 'Big Three'," Harry snapped, using appropriate finger quotations on the three Gods title. "Don't you think it's a little stupid to _not_ have a Cabin for him? Even if it's just a precaution?" Luke blinked, and shrugged.

"You'll have to take it up with Mr. D and Chiron, Harry," he suggested, deciding not to deal with _that_ particular can of worms. Harry huffed, and began to reluctantly follow the older boy again.

"I don't see _why_," he muttered, glancing back over his shoulder. "After all, it's not _them_ that has to deal with the backlash of an insulted God when _they_ die... If they even _can_," he huffed, and stumbled past Luke when the boy stopped to gape at him in realization. "What?" He asked defensively. "It's _true_! We're all going to the Underworld when we die. It's just bloody _common sense_, to _not_ piss off the King of it!" Huffing, and feeling slightly embarrassed for his outburst and the fact Luke was still staring at him as if he'd never seen something quite like him ever before, Harry turned and stomped the rest of the way up the hill and into the Pavilion, quickly followed by the still stunned Luke.

As soon as he stepped past the first pillar, Lee seemingly popped out of the woodwork, scaring the living daylights out of Harry, who had to quickly focus on his breathing as he felt his hands heat up in response.

"What'd you do to him, Harry?" Lee asked, peering at the shell-shocked Luke with amusement as he reached over and ruffled Harry's bird-nest of hair, making the younger Demigod huff at him in annoyance.

"I just told him the truth," he muttered, smacking halfheartedly at the archer's hand as he relentlessly continued messing up the younger boy's dark brown hair.

"What truth?" Lee asked, finally pulling his hand back, to grin unrepentantly as Harry glowered at him and made a feeble attempt at fixing it back into some semblance of order.

"That there should be a Hades Cabin, if only to keep from insulting the God, seeing as how _we're_ the ones who will have to deal with him after we die," he told the Son of Apollo bluntly, and huffed when the boys face blanked in shock as well. Harry rolled his eyes and grumbled to himself as he pushed back the stunned-silent teen. "As bad as Hermione and the fire incident back in First Year, I swear," he grumbled as he made his way over to what seemed to be the Hermes Table. He took a seat next to Charlie, and was about to ask what there was for breakfast, when a beautiful woman with elvish features and unnaturally green-tinged skin, appeared, smiling fondly at his gaping. She was dressed in a purple blouse and shorts that matched her bright purple eyes, and, in her curly black hair, several purple flowers were interwoven.

"Welcome to Camp Half-Blood, little Demigod," she cooed at him, and Harry blushed, ducking his head shyly as she cooed again, as if he was a particularly adorable baby animal. "My name is Aster, sweetling, and if you need any help, or if you ever get confused about where something is, you can usually find me next to my flowers, over on that side of the hill," she told him kindly, pointing East (which Harry only knew because the sun was now, quite brightly, shining directly at his face when he looked in the direction she was pointing. He was rather strongly reminded of the Apollo Cabin, which made too much sense, honestly.)

"Er, thank you, Miss Aster," Harry managed; Aster cooed at him, and, giggling, placed a plate filled with Strawberries, oatmeal (with strawberry pieces), and two pieces of toast, in front of him. She pointed at the empty, fancy goblet next to the plate, smiling at him.

"The goblets are enchanted, so that all you have to do is tell them what you want to drink and, as long as it's nonalcoholic, it will appear, okay, sweetling?" Harry nodded, and shyly thanked her again, before he was once more blushing brightly when the beautiful woman giggled and pressed a kiss to his temple before skipping off.

"Lucky brat," Charlie muttered with a mix of awe and disbelief. "The nymphs _never_ treat the newbies that nice. How'd you do it?" He demanded curiously, leaning close and peering at Harry's face, making the younger Demigod lean back with wide eyes.

"Um," was all Harry managed, before Luke, finally released from his stupor, popped up and saved the day... Sort of. Really, he just cuffed Charlie upside the head and told him to eat his breakfast, which sparked a playful teasing session between the two, and left Harry to his breakfast in relative peace. Sighing, the twelve-year-old picked up his goblet, and hesitated.

"Um..." He tried to think of something that would go well with his breakfast but, in all honesty, he had no idea. He wasn't a fan of milk, and water didn't see right for breakfast. Orange juice wouldn't taste good with the strawberries, and Pumpkin Juice was more of a dinner drink. Butterbeer, while delicious, was, again, a drink not appropriate, and contained a minute amount of actual alcohol in it besides. Harry struggled to think of something, before rolling his eyes unhappily.

"Strawberry lemonade?" he asked the cup, and watched, eyebrows high and glasses slipping down to the tip of his nose in surprise, as the glass not _only_ filled with the dark-pink beverage, but also provided ice. "Thank you?" He said cautiously, and blinked as the goblet seemed to _thrum_. Shrugging, Harry took a drink, and decided to enjoy his meal.

After all, with the way Luke and Charlie were going at it, there was a high likelihood of a food fight in the near future, and Harry didn't want to waste a single bite of the food Aster had so nicely provided.

**~(Line Break)~**

_**The Previous Day, in Surrey, England**_

Vernon Dursley didn't know what had happened. He had gone to the ruddy station to pick up the Freak, just as that bearded, Headmaster Freak had told him (and he was of the opinion that the Freak Headmaster needed _his_ head checked). He had even waited an entire _hour_, getting steadily more angry with each passing second that the worthless brat hadn't shown up, until he had finally stormed back to his car and driven home, fuming.

His lovely Petunia, however, had quickly calmed him down, her gray eyes gleaming brightly when he had told her about the Freak's no-show.

"Just think, Vernon," she whispered to him after pouring him a delightful cup of brandy, just to steady his nerves. "The Freak probably ran off to hide at one of his freaky friends houses. The _letter_," she spat, sending a disgusted look to the envelope she'd gotten from one of those nasty birds while Vernon was waiting at the station, "says to keep doing as we've always done, and suggested we even do _more_. That means that the Freak doesn't have permission to be wherever he's run off to, and _that_ means that the Headmaster Freak doesn't know he's not here. _Vernon_," she purred, and it was at times like these that he was reminded just why he loved this woman, despite her unfortunate Freak of a sister and nephew. "_Vernon_, he'll be sending us the money, and we won't have to deal with the Freak at all!" She grinned brightly at him, and Vernon could feel his own grin lifting his mustache up as he caught on.

"He'll just be giving us pay for _free_," he announced, and Petunia laughed brightly, happier than he'd seen her for _years_, ever since the disgusting brat had been tossed on them.

"This is _perfect_," she murmured, pressing a kiss to his cheek, and Vernon couldn't help but grin as he made his way upstairs to the bathroom to show, while his happily humming wife got dinner ready. Dudley was spending the night at Piers house, doing his summer homework early (his son was such a clever lad, knew exactly what he wanted in life, and worked hard for it, too! Unlike that worthless Freak, who lazed about, whining about wanting food when his filthy _presence_ threatened to rub his Freakishness off on Vernon's lovely _normal_ family), so he and Petunia had the house to themselves, with no Freak to worry about mucking their night up.

A blast of cool air had Vernon shivering, and he moved over, frowning, to check the thermostat. *****21 degrees?! Bloody hell, no wonder it was chilly, when it was a warm summer night!

"Pet?" He called, frowning as he quickly raised the temperature.

"Yes, dear?" Petunia called.

"Did you change the thermostat?" he asked.

"No?" She replied, sounding confused. "Why? Is it too high?" He snorted.

"Too low!" He answered. "I've fixed it, though, don't worry. Maybe Dudley got a bit too hot, you know how growing boys are, hormones and such rising." He chuckled proudly, and heard Petunia call something in agreement, before he removed his tie and stepped into the bathroom, turning on the water to heat while he got ready.

However, he frowned when he noticed that the water was more luke-warm than hot, by the time he stepped into it.

"Bloody plumbers," he muttered as he turned the hot water up higher, raising the temperature until it was his preferred level of heat. With that, he put it out of his mind, and continued his shower.

All was right in his world...

Or, was it?

**~(Line Break)~**

Hestia was pleased with herself. Her revenge for her sweet Harry would be slow, but sweet, and she would see every second of it, recorded in the Flames of her Sacred Fire. She watched as the Dursleys carried on, unassuming, as she implemented her slow-acting plan.

A home without the heat of a hearth was no home at all. A family without the warmth of love was nothing but strangers and enemies waiting to step out of the shadows. A life without the fire of something new was just death in disguise.

So, she would take their heat.

She would chill their warmth.

She would extinguish their fire.

And, when they were miserable and frozen, from the outside in? She would grant them death, for she was nothing if not merciful, though they, themselves, were not.

She smiled, and the temperature in the Dursley house went down another ten degrees, the hot water ran cooler, the food remained partially uncooked. The child, who was relaxing with his friend, smoking some sort of plant she vaguely recalled Dionysus complaining of at some point, and relaxing, was next. As she watched, a cool breeze persisted and, in his drugged state, the boy did no more than pull up a blanket, and assumed it was the drug, as it _was_ the first time he'd ever tried it.

Their Fates were decided.

_No one _harmed _her_ Firstborn.

**~(Line Break)~**

"Bloody hell, PETUNIA!"

"What is it, dear?"

"Call that bloody plumber back! The hot water's gone!"

"Yes, dear!"

Somehow, Vernon knew this was all that ruddy Freak's fault.

**A/N:** Ta-Da! Hestia is getting her revenge for her son, and the Dursley's are getting some nice, slow justice. After all...

Revenge is a dish best served _cold_.

...

I am so sorry, that pun was unforgivable, but I _HAD TO!_

Lolz!

Oh, and:

***21 degrees** - This is Celsius, as they are in England. This amounts to 70 degrees Fahrenheit, which is nicely chilly in the middle of summer, but only if you make it that way on purpose.

I hope this helped answer all those questions you guys had! I know it missed some, but don't worry, I'll get to it, and THANK YOU to everyone who suggested pairings and such! It's fun to see what you guys like, but just remember, Harry is TWELVE and won't be going beyond cute little crushes and puppy love for ages, okay?

Just a reminder!

Now:

**When I Finished Typing This Chapter:**

**Reviews** - 107

**Favorites** - 216

**Follows** - 226

**Communities** - 8

**Views** - 5,624

HOLY SHIT YOU GUYS! THANK YOU!


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** Yay, all the positive feedback~! ^-^

Danke!

**When I Started Typing This Chapter:**

**Reviews** - 140

**Favorites** - 258

**Follows** - 282

**Communities** - 10

**Views** - 8, 204

**For Want of Family**

**Chapter Five**

"Crap," Luke's voice caught Harry's attention as he was finishing his oatmeal, and the younger Demigod looked up at his maybe-friend with curious eyes as the Son of Hermes grimaced. "We didn't explain the sacrifice," he muttered, and, shaking his head, turned to Harry. "Okay, so, before you eat most meals, you're supposed to sacrifice a portion of it to one of the Gods, usually your choice," the seventeen-year-old told him, pointing towards the giant bronze bathtub filled with Sacred Fire. "Sometimes you don't have much of a choice, and have to sacrifice to whatever God you managed to piss off, but, anyways, since you're new, I think you'll be fine sacrificing food _after_ you've eaten, at least this once. _Technically_, we're supposed to do it _before_ we eat, but... Yeah... Sorry for not telling you before," the boy apologized with a sheepish grin; Harry blinked at him slowly.

"That's alright," he told the older boy, reaching over and patting Luke on the shoulder awkwardly. "I'll just go ask Miss Aster for something special, to make up for it." He smiled as he hopped up, picking up his empty plate, bowl on top, and his empty goblet, to take to the pretty nymph, who was chattering happily with a few others of her kind, in a language he couldn't understand, but made Harry think of leaves rustling in trees and spring rain.

"Miss Aster?" He asked uncertainly, not wanting to interrupt; the pretty nymph turned to him, and beamed warmly.

"Yes, sweetling?" she asked him kindly; Harry felt his ears heat up as the other nymphs giggled and cooed at him quietly, and cleared his throat.

"Luke just told me that I was supposed to sacrifice some food to the Gods, but I've already eaten all of mine," he told her honestly. "Can I have some strawberries, and maybe something else appropriate, to give them?" Aster blinked, then beamed,reaching forward and stroking his hair away from his face gently, cooing.

"Of course, sweetling!" she reassured him, and straightened back up with a little jump, clapping her hands together once with a bright smile. "I'll go grab you something special, okay? I'll be _right_ back!" Harry nodded, and the nymph disappeared after she had taken his dirty plates from him. Harry tried to wait there for her, but the other nymphs just kept smiling and cooing at him, and giggling to one another in that strange nature-language of theirs, and, face red, Harry had retreated to stand next to the Sacred Fire, feeling his nerves settle and his body relax as the familiar heat soaked into him, making him smile.

"Oh no!" A girl gasped from the other side of the fire; curious, Harry peered around the basin, and blinked. It was one of the girls from the Aphrodite Cabin, holding a hand to her ear and looking into the Flame with dismay as one of her half-sisters winced sympathetically.

"I can't believe your earring just fell into the sacrificial fire," the half-sister said disbelievingly; the other girl looked ready to cry.

"These were my grandmother's earrings!" She announced tearfully. "She _died_ last summer!" Again, her half-sister winced, and hesitantly curled an arm around her shoulders.

"Maybe Mom will take care of them?" she suggested tentatively; the distraught girl sniffled, and looked even more ready to cry. "You can't keep just the _one_ earring, Natasha," the other girl told her gently; Natasha sniffled, and began to reluctantly remove the single diamond earring that she had left.

"Wait!" Harry blurted, feeling distraught himself, that this girl was about to lose something from her mortal family, which she obviously cherished, just because of an accident. Quickly, the younger Demigod darted around to their side, and peered into the Sacred Fire, spotting the earring, unharmed, at the bottom and center of the fire. With a mental thank you to his mother for keeping the precious earring unharmed, Harry reached into the Flame, smiling slightly as it licked his skin like an affectionate cat wanting to be pet, he picked up the earring and pulled it out, turning and handing the cool piece of jewelry to the stunned-looking Natasha, smiling brightly up at her.

"How did you...?" The other girl asked, staring from him, to the fire, to the earring, as she tried to figure it out. Harry shrugged, shuffling his feet, embarrassed, before shrugging again.

"Fire won't burn its own," he told her, before he hurried back to the other side of the basin, just as Aster appeared with a bowl of bright strawberries and a chocolate-chip muffin, winking as she handed them over to him, before she kissed his temple and flounced off with a giggle to rejoin her... Sisters? Harry shook his head, and turned to the fire. Carefully, he poured in the bowl of strawberries.

_For Hestia, my Mum. I love you and hope you're doing well with your family._

They disappeared, burned to ashes, and Harry turned his attention to the muffin, wondering who she should give it to. Finally, he nodded, deciding, and dropped it into the fire.

_For Lord Hades. I'll try to convince Mr. D and Chiron that you need a Cabin here, too._

Not knowing what else to do after the muffin had turned to ashes, Harry shrugged and decided to rejoin his friends at the Hermes table until breakfast was over and he could talk to Chiron and Mr. D about both his schedule and tour, and the Hades Cabin issue.

"Campers!" Mr. D called from his table, Chiron next to him. Today, the God was wearing a neon yellow Hawaiian shirt with bright green parrots flying all over it, khaki shorts, and flip-flops. The tables quieted down, looking over at him curiously.

"Last night we got a new Demigod," the bored-looking God declared, and gestured at the Hermes table with his can of Diet Coke. "Herman Poster, please stand so everyone can see you..." Chiron cleared his throat.

"Harry Potter," he corrected, and Harry reluctantly stood and waved at the room at large, flushing slightly as Campers leaned around one another to stare at him. "Firstborn Son of Hestia," the centaur continued seriously, and, once again, a plain circle of Sacred Fire blazed to light over Harry's head, and he blushed even darker and dropped his eyes to his feet as the staring intensified, and the campers began to whisper and chatter to one another. _Just like First Year all over again_, he thought to himself morosely.

"Yes, yes, whatever, gossip on your own time," Mr. D announced boredly, and the campers quieted as Harry quickly slid back into his seat, shoulders hunched a bit. "Anyways, I don't want any of you brats chasing him off or trying to maim him. Hestia _is_ my favorite Aunt, after all," he declared mildly, but his bloodshot eyes were narrowed, and the purple iris was gleaming with the madness he was God of, threat obvious. The Campers shifted, and two boy sitting at what had to be the Dionysus Table straightened a bit, and turned their violet-purple eyes on Harry with bright curiosity, curly blond hair and lack of beard being the only obvious differences, besides age, they had from the Camp Director.

"Right, well, that's all," Mr. D finished rather abruptly, waving his hand at them all in mild irritation, and moodily staring at his can of Diet Coke before drinking it. Harry could only shake his head at the strangeness that was Mr. D, and turned to look at Luke from under his bangs. The Son of Hermes was peering at him curiously,much like all the other Demigods, but his curiosity seemed to be edged with realization.

"Huh," he said, tilting his head. "You know, it kind of makes sense." He nodded, and took a drink from his goblet. "Lady Hestia _is_ the Goddess of the Hearth, Home, and Family, and has control over fire. That's probably why you apparently give off heat, and make people comfortable just by being around."

"And probably why the nymphs like him," Charlie muttered from the other side of the table. "They always pay more attention to Demigods who parents never both them, and that's mostly the Goddesses." Luke rolled his eyes and shoved his half-brother, and Harry decided that maybe he should go talk with Chiron about his schedule, before another tussle broke out.

**~(Line Break)~**

Hades has never been accused of having any soft spots. He's been called cruel, arrogant, nasty, vicious, and all other adjectives one can use when dealing with a God of such an unpopular thing as he was.

He did, however, _have_ his soft spots.

His lovely wife, Persephone. His children. His dog, Cerberus.

And, perhaps his softest spot: his eldest sister, Hestia.

So, really, it shouldn't be such a surprise, that he was beginning to form another soft spot, in the form of his newest nephew. The scent of chocolate-chip muffin, mixed with the smoke from a Sacred Fire that had burned it, and his lovely little nephew's earnest promise to look into getting Hades a Cabin of his own at the Camp? Of course he would soften for the lad.

And especially when he found out that the lad had been the one to send that screaming soul fragment, of the irritant known as the mortal Tom Marvolo Riddle, to him. Said soul piece was currently enjoying its stay at the Fields of Punishment, awaiting the other seven fragments before it could _truly_ feel the wrath of a God who had been insulted by the stupid mortals belief that he had _cheated_ Death (Thanatos was enjoying the challenge, of course, but the Death God had never been one for extra work, and so was also annoyed with the impudent mortal).

Of course, he knew better than to interfere with what was, no doubt, going to be a long, delightful revenge plan from his favorite sibling, nor did he wish to even _lean_ towards interfering with the Prophesy he'd seen connected to his sister's Firstborn, but he could get a bit creative, and "accidentally" deal out some punishment of his own, now, couldn't he? Especially when it came to those ridiculous mortals Hecate had Blessed with Magic during a party with Dionysus centuries ago, and who she now all but ignored because of their own stupidity and lack of Common Sense.

(Dionysus still teased her about them, when the two saw one another, but Hecate was too stubborn to call the Magic mortals mistakes, and too kind-hearted to outright destroy the little things. "They'll kill themselves out in a few centuries," was all she'd say on the matter).

So, he decided to play with the little Magic Users, especially those who had caused harm, emotional or physical, to his little nephew.

He sent out nightmares, planted the seeds of distrust within the minds of the sheep, and made sure that all those Monsters and Creatures who fell under his Rule, had extra incentive in causing specific mortals harm, while also making them uninterested in the so-called "Dark Lord" and his side of the war that danced on the edge of the future horizon (and there _would_ be War. Hades hadn't seen Ares so cheerful since the Americans started that Civil War, when the Greek and Roman Demigods had sent so many of their counterparts to his Kingdom.).

He also may have given his own Blessing to his sister's Phoenix, and helped the bird hunt down all of a specific mortals favored candies and destroy them.

The fact that Persephone _adored_ the smell of burned lemons was just a small plus in assisting the Creature Born Of Sacred Fire.

Life was good in the Underworld.

**~(Line Break)~**

"What do you _mean_ you can't get Lord Hades a Cabin?!" Harry exclaimed, staring at Mr. D with stunned, bewildered eyes. "You're the Camp Director! _You're_ in charge of the Camp!" The Wine God grimaced and leaned back with a low sigh, already feeling a headache come on.

"The final say is my Father's," he told the boy simply. "Without his say-so, my hands are tied... Not that I'd want to see what sort of tacky thing my Uncle would come up with as a Cabin, anyways," he muttered under his breath, huffing as a new can of Diet Coke appeared in his hand, opening with a _hiss_ that sounded vaguely like a curse word to Harry's ears. "Listen, little cousin, and listen well, because I'm only going to tell you this _once_ and _only_ because your mother is my favorite Aunt, understand?" He leaned closer to the Demigod, and Harry glared unhappily up at him, frustrated but willing to listen.

"Zeus'. Word. Is. Law." Dionysus intoned slowly. "My father dictates what Cabins are allowed, which Gods may have children, and has forbidden said Gods from _contacting_ their children or dealing with them without his express permission. If he had his way, Daddy Dearest would have smite'd _you_ just for the threat you pose, and the fact that his favorite sister had you with a mortal. There is nothing I can do for you," he said bluntly, and leaned back, ignoring Harry's wide-eyed dismayed expression.

"Then... Then," the twelve-year-old tried, scrambling for his thoughts. "W-what if I did it?" He blurted; Mr. D looked at him, arching an eyebrow.

"Did what?" He asked; Harry took a deep breath.

"What if _I_ got Lord Hades a Cabin?" he asked; Mr. D slowly set his can down, frowning.

"I suggest you go through proper channels, first," he suggested slowly, eyeing the boy with sharp, narrowed eyes, as if he was looking for some ulterior motive. "Petition my father, ask permission. If he says no, propose a trade of some sort, or even go through your mother, though it won't earn you any points."

"I'm not trying to earn points," Harry snapped, standing tall with determination in his eyes. "I'm trying to do what's _right_, and what should have been done when the Camp was created! I know there's some big law that states that the 'Big Three' aren't allowed to have children, but it's relatively new, compared to the Camp at least. You can't honestly tell me that it's _right_, that the Demigod children of one of the oldest Gods, the King of the Underworld where all Dead go, had to bed in with the unclaimed and the Children of another God?!" Harry's eyes narrowed, blazing with the Fire he controlled.

"And that's another thing!" He added, falling fully into his rant, while Mr. D just watched him with mild amusement, eyebrows slowly rising as he watched the, thus far, mild-mannered Demigod explode, fire sparking at his fingertips. "_Why_ are all the unclaimed shoved off into the Hermes Cabin? And why, if they have to be there, isn't the Cabin in better shape, or even larger?! There are so many different things that could be done, to not only make the _Children of the Gods_ more comfortable and happy, but that would make this whole _Camp_ safer, but it's just being left the way it is and for what?!" He threw his hands in the air with a frustrated huff, fire dancing under his skin and, for a moment, Dionysus could see his Aunt there, staring back at him from her Firstborn's face, and he sighed, wondering why _he_ had to be the one to deal with this.

"Fine," he said; Harry froze, wind effectively knocked from his sails as he blinked uncomprehendingly at the God.

"Fine?" He asked, uncertainly, and now he looked even _more_ like Hestia, much to Dionysus amused exasperation.

"Yes, fine, _whatever_," the Wine God snorted, rolling his eyes. "_I'll_ talk to my father, if _you_ do all the work. I _loathe_ the paperwork such things need, and you'll pay for it yourself, with whatever money you can get. Ask the Goblins to assist you if you want to go that far, they're clever little fellows, though they can be more conniving than any lawyer I've ever had the displeasure of meeting," he muttered sourly; Harry blinked rapidly, slow realization lighting his face.

"I can make Hades a Cabin?" he drew out slowly; Mr. D grunted, already searching through his desk for a pen and paper. "And fix up the Hermes Cabin?" the twelve-year-old checked; Mr. D just grunted again.

"You draw it up, you put everything in order," he reminded, signing his rapidly written letter with a flourish. "The _second_ you decide to give up, however, you will clean up the mess _by yourself_ and write a formal apology to myself, my father, Lord Hades, and Lord Hermes for the failure and for wasting their, and my, time. Understand?" He asked, snapping his fingers and making the folded letter, and the strange coin he'd placed on top of it, disappear.

"Yes, sir!" Harry exclaimed, and his cheeks hurt from how hard he was grinning. He was practically bouncing on his toes, and Dionysus eyed him before snorting.

"Good," he said bluntly, and made a shooing motion. "Now, out. You've given me a headache," he complained; Harry bobbed his head excitedly, and all but ran for the door, skidding to a stop just as he reached it when he remembered something. Feeling suddenly shy, he hesitantly turned around, fiddling with the bottom of his new, bright orange camp shirt.

"Lord Dionysus, sir?" He asked hesitantly, shyly; Mr. D grunted, having already leaned back in his chair, eyes closed and flip-flop covered feet up on his desk. "Um, would you mind if, sometime, I, well, organized your office?" Mr. D opened one bloodshot, purple eye and stared at him silently. "It's just, well," Harry cleared his throat, and shifted uneasily on his feet. "My Aunt and Uncle, well, they didn't understand that I have ADHD, I mean, _I_ didn't even know I had it and just always thought I got bored easily or something, but, well... Long story short, I've kind of developed a sort of OCD?" He peeked up at the God, before dropping his eyes back down to his feet, embarrassed, "And, well, cleaning and organizing things it's, well, _soothing_, I suppose... I'm sorry," he muttered, reaching up and automatically flattening his bangs over his forehead, feeling his neck burn with embarrassment, face red. "It's not... Sorry," he muttered lamely; Mr. D just stared at him with his one eye, consideringly, before grunting and closing it again.

"You can organize it," he told Harry without opening his eyes again. "But only if every Saturday while you're here, you work in the Strawberry fields. If it's raining, you'll come here and assist me with paperwork. If you're so determined to give the Ghost King a Cabin and fix up the Brat House, you can learn what to expect. Now, go... Play with a stick, or something, I don't care, just don't poke out an eye or something." Harry giggled slightly, light-headed with relief, and bowed towards the God, a bright smile on his lips.

"Yes, sir, thank you, sir," he chirped, before scampering away, green fire gleaming in his eyes.

Once he was alone, Dionysus opened his eyes half-way, and looked up at the ceiling with a thoughtful hum.

"I don't know how you did it, Aunty Hestia," he murmured out loud, closing his eyes again, lips curling into a half-smile. "But you've somehow managed to make a Hero I don't hate on sight..." Dionysus chuckled, and tipped his head back farther, letting out a sigh. "But then again... He is _yours_." With a low chuckle, the God of Wine and Madness, sat up, and took a drink of his soda.

Maybe it was time he actually _did_ some of the paperwork for the camp...

...

_Or_, he could take a nap!

Yes, a nap definitely sounded like the better option. And, so deciding, the God disappeared to his designated room in the Big House, while outside, a young Demigod with fire beneath his skin and a smile on his face, went to get some parchment, to prepare a letter to Gringotts.

He had a Cabin to build.

**A/N:** There you guys go! And Hades needed some attention, with a side-mention of Thanatos. Whoot!

Kudos to _**roanoak**_ who is the one who suggested/requested Harry get the Hermes Cabin fixed/enlarged. I loved the idea, and it fit my Harry perfectly.

I hope you guys liked how Harry reacted to things in this chapter. I'm trying to work in Hestia's empathy and humility, with Lily's righteousness and kind heart, and a dash of James' pride...

I don't think I got it quite right, but I still like the way this came out...?

**When I Finished Typing This Chapter:**

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	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** Oh, good, people really liked what I did last chapter, yay!

OMG YOU GUYS!

The author _**Salllzy**_ wrote me a fic for _this_ fic, called "Family day" and it is so CUTE!

And, on another note, remember to review! I love reading what people would like to see, things people are confused about or want more off, all of that, so, please review!

Danke!

**When I Started Typing This Chapter:**

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**For Want of Family**

**Chapter Six**

Zeus could only stare at the letter his son had just sent him with an incredulous expression.

_**Dear Father,**_

_**A formal request for a new Cabin, for Uncle Hades, has been put in. The one placing the request, has agreed to pay for materials and construction required, and all that is needed is your permission.**_

_**Sincerely,**_

_**Dionysus**_

_**P.S. Tell Aunty Hestia that her Firstborn is already giving me headaches, will you? **_

_A Hades Cabin?_ he thought, honestly bewildered as he stared at the letter, a frown pulling his mouth downward. There had only ever been a Cabin made for his darker brother once, back when the Gods were young and lived in Greece. Hades had gone through some ridiculous phase where he was trying to prove he was a better father or something (Zeus _still_ thought their brother had been high off of the power his Helm had given him, as they'd received their symbols of power not even a full year before hand).

Well, after a rash of still-births, several mothers dying during the process, and a few rather greedy young Demigods who had inherited _too much_ of their father's power over Wealth and...

Well...

The Cabin had been removed, and Zeus had forbidden Hades from having a new one if he couldn't keep his brats or powers in check long enough for them to actually make _use_ of the Cabin.

_That_ argument had continued for _centuries_, and Hades was still rather bitter about it, if he remembered correctly.

Zeus huffed, and moved to toss the letter in the nearest Flame, when Hestia appeared and just smiled up at him from beside said Flame. She didn't say anything, nor was her expression hiding anything but her usual gentle understanding. He knew that, if he tossed the letter and didn't grant permission for the Cabin to be built, she would not judge him for it, nor would she retaliate in any way, but...

But he knew she would be disappointed, as she always was when he and the rest of their Family fought over some small thing, or held a grudge so old neither party could exactly remember the beginning cause.

With a heavy sigh that made wind swirl strongly through the hall for a moment, Zeus scowled at his elder sister, and snapped his fingers, a ballpoint pen and a gold drachma appearing. With a flourish, he signed the bottom of the paper, and, with another snap of his fingers and a flash of lightning, the letter and coin disappeared. Sending his older sister a dark look, Zeus crossed his arms over his chest.

"I hope you're happy," he grumbled, thunder rumbling in his chest; Hestia just continued to smile, fire-eyes warm and amused.

"I am always happy to see you, little brother," she replied simply, and Zeus huffed at her, before turning to walk away. "Especially when you pout," the Hearth Goddess continued blithely, soft smiling turning slightly wicked. "You're adorable when you pout."

Zeus growled and stomped away, but he wouldn't deny that the sound of her light-hearted laughter as it followed after him, made him want to smile in return.

It was good to hear that sound again.

Even if it _was_ at his expense.

**~(Line Break)~**

Harry sat back away from his enlarged trunk, which he had been using as an impromptu writing desk, and looked down at his letter critically, making sure that the ink hadn't smeared or dotted anywhere. He wanted this letter to be as polite and business-like as possible, but also personal, because Harry never understood _why_ the Wizarding World treated the Goblins and other sentient Beings and Creatures so badly.

So, he had written his letter to the only Goblin he knew.

_**Dear Griphook,**_

_**I honestly don't know if what I am writing to Gringotts for, is part of your current job description. If so, then I shall be relieved, but if not, then I apologize for wasting your time and ask that you take this letter to the one who it will be best with.**_

_**I am unaware of the standing Gringotts Bank has when it comes to Children of the Divine, but it has recently come to my attention that I am, in fact, a Demigod, of the Greek persuasion, though I do not know at this current time if there are other persuasion that could be, but that is another matter. **_

_**Now, the reason I am divulging this information, is the fact that I am currently residing in a safe-haven for my kind in America, and have taken up a project that promises to be rather costly if I am not aware of the exact cost of certain things.**_

_**Thus, the reason I am writing to you is that I wish to know of my Vaults, and what, exactly, lies within them. I am providing a signature in blood and magic at the bottom of this letter, so that my identity may be assured.**_

_**May this find you well, and may your profits be ever-growing.**_

_**Sincerely,**_

_**Harry James Potter**_  
><em><strong>Heir to the Ancient and Noble House of Potter<strong>_

_**Firstborn Son of Hestia, Goddess of the Hearth, Home, and Family**_

Harry was rather pleased with the letter, although cutting his hand enough to provide enough blood _just_ for his name to be clearly legible, and controlling his magic without calling his Fire had been difficult, it was worth it to see the dark red, shimmering name on the parchment.

Making sure that the ink had dried, he folded the letter carefully, and slipped it into and envelope melting a bit of wax with his own Fire, he sealed it, and turned the letter over to admire his painstakingly neat, and readable, handwriting.

_**Griphook**_

_**Gringotts Bank**_

_**Diagon Alley, London, England**_

Now all he had to do was call on Hedwig and send the letter along! Quickly pressing the fire-circle symbol on his trunk, making it shrink so he could hide it in his pocket, Harry darted outside and whistled loudly.

"What are you doing?" Charlie asked him curiously, the Hermes boy playing some card game with an Undetermined boy and a young blond girl from the Athena Cabin.

"Calling Hedwig," Harry replied, just as there was a rush of wings and a blur of white, before his beloved owl was landing on his shoulder and barking at him, proceeding to nip and preen his hair affectionately as he beamed. "Hey, girl," he cooed lovingly, stroking her feathers. "Have you had a good rest? I need you to take something back to England for me..." Hedwig fluffed herself up, and barked at him, clacking her beak impatiently and all but shoving her leg in his face, making Harry laugh. "Okay, okay! Here you go, clever girl," he said, and carefully attached the letter to her leg, smiling affectionately at her as she cooed and preened herself happily.

"That goes to Griphook, and _only_ to Griphook, unless he hands it off to another Goblin, okay?" Hedwig bobbed her head, clacked her beak at him twice, and took to the air, large wings spread gracefully as she flew. Harry smiled after her wistfully, and sent a brief prayer to his mother to keep his first and oldest friend safe.

"Did... Did you just send a _letter_ by _owl_?" a horrified voice asked; Harry turned and blinked at the young Athena Demigod, who had give up playing the game in favor of gaping at Harry, horrified. Harry briefly remembered that Athena's Sacred Animal was the owl, and blinked, honestly confused as to how to deal with the situation.

"Yes..." he trailed off, then decided to at least make an _attempt_ at explaining himself. "I'm from England, and am part of the Magical Population. We always use owls when we want to send mail, because they're the only animal smart enough and with the ability to find, literally, anyone. Some can only do so in a small area, and they need the name of the person they're looking for, but Hedwig, my owl, she's special," he beamed brightly, proud of his dearest friend. "She's able find people anywhere, and she doesn't need a name. She's my best friend, and really special." He smiled at the girl, who, while unhappy about it, at least looked appeased.

"As long as you treat her well," she muttered, and sat back down, scowling when she saw that Charlie and the Undetermined boy had played on without her, and that she'd have to wait for the next round. Harry shook his head, and took off to wander around.

He found a nice place where he'd like to have the Hades Cabin, set closer to the Forest than the other Cabins (And wasn't it funny, that there was yet another Forbidden Forest, and for the same reasons?). He had, originally, thought about keeping it close to the other Cabins, just far away from the Zeus and Poseidon Cabin, but, with the hostility between the Gods, and the fact that his fellow campers declared him as 'crazy' and 'naive' just for _wanting_ Hades to have a Cabin (Well, except for Luke and Lee, they knew why there should be one and, while dubious, thought he was doing good), he thought setting the Cabin farther off, but still relatively close to the Dining Pavilion, and close to the shadows of the dangerous Forest, well, he thought it would be best.

While there may not be any Demigods to fill it because of that Vow Zeus and his brothers had taken, if there ever _were_ any later, he had no doubt that they'd at least appreciate the reprieve from the judgement of the other campers.

Just _why_ the Gods would treat Lord Hades like their own personal embarrassment-come-boogieman, Harry had no idea, but he _really_ didn't like it.

"Hey, Midget!" a voice called; Harry blink, automatically turning towards the voice. Uncertainly, he eyed the tall, muscular girl who was striding confidently toward him with a smirk on her face. She has long brown hair, and lighter brown eyes. Following behind her were two boys, both of them just as large and buff as the girl, and Harry was rather suddenly reminded of Flint.

"Let me guess," he said dully, trying to keep the Fire that was already heating his hands, in check. "Clarrise?" The girls smirk widened.

"I guess you already know about the initiation then, huh, Midget?" she said as she got closer; Harry grimaced.

"Alright, listen," he told her seriously. "My cousin and his gang used to swirly me, I don't like it, it's uncomfortable, and if you touch me right now, I _will_ catch on fire." He held up his hands, and showed her the strange, fire-like flickering going on under his skin, making the girl blink and tilt her head in reluctant curiosity.

"Well, sorry, Midget, but _everyone_ goes through the Initiation," she informed him, not looking sorry in the least. In fact, it looked more like she was taking his warning as a _challenge_, and Harry wondered, warily, if he could outrun the girl and her cronies/half-brothers.

"Sorry," he told her tentatively. "I'm not one for tradition." And, with that, he dove towards the Forest and began to run as if Dudley and his friends were playing Harry Hunting. At this point, he'd rather have to deal with a few monsters rather than risk seriously harming a few of his fellow Demigods.

"Get him!" Clarrise shouted from behind him, and Harry made a sharp left, running parallel to the end of the trees, scrambling over logs and slipping in slightly-muddy patches. The loud rustling and faint snarls and curses behind him meant he was still being pursued, and he was never more glad for his "training" in fleeing from bullies as he was then. He kept running straight, until he burst out of the trees, and continued to run, leaping ungracefully over a stream, and continuing on, past what he knew was Arena, and towards the vague direction of the Stable and Strawberry fields, wondering which one he would rather risk: Mr. D if he damaged any of the plants, or the massive beasts the other campers called 'horses'.

A snarling shout behind him made his decision, and Harry moved directly towards the Strawberry Fields.

The worse Mr. D could do to him at this point was forbid him from making the Hades Cabin, or make him do horrible amounts of paperwork (which he was going to do _anyways_), and call his Mum. The horses would stomp him to death with no remorse, he was sure of it.

Quickly, Harry weaved through the neat rows of strawberries, darting past the odd Child of Demeter and nymph, until he reached the property line, wheezing slightly from his long run. Looking back, he was immensely relieved to find that Clarrise and her posse were being held up by scolding nymphs and disapproving Demigod gardeners (they had, apparently, damaged some of the vines while chasing him.

Relieved, Harry ducked down out of sight, and carefully ran, bent over, around the outside of the fields, until he reached the stables. Crossing his fingers and mentally praying to his Mum that the massive creatures didn't kill him for trespassing in their territory, Harry slipped inside and quickly hid in one of the empty stalls, breathing in the smell of hay and manure, while trying not to cringe when one of the Pegasi (an admittedly beautiful gray-and-white spotted mare with a gray mane and dark blue eyes) poked their head over from the neighboring stall to sniff at him curiously.

"Don't eat me," he whispered to the Pegasus nervously, all but laying down in the straw to avoid being bitten or something. "I'm awfully thin and bony, I'd taste horrible, probably like burnt paper or something..." The Pegasus pulled her head up with a loud, nickering sound, and Harry prayed that it was just a normal noise, and not some horse-language for "I've found our next victim!" or something.

After a good half-an-hour of cowering in the straw and trying desperately not to squeal every time the Pegasus mare lipped at him (he _knew_ she was doing it on purpose, now! She was probably trying to scare him to death so he wouldn't move when she decided to step on her), Harry finally had enough and decided to sneak back to the Hermes Cabin, or maybe take refuge with some of the other Cabins, just in case.

Scrambling from the stall and making a run for the door, he paused before leaving to glance nervously back at the Pegasus, who whinnied at him and tossed her head. Shuddering, Harry poked his head out, looked around and, once he saw he was in the clear, slipped out.

He would need lots of quality time tending to the Camp Fire in order to feel calm again (Technically it was the Camp Campfire, where the camp met before Lights Out, and sang songs and introduced new Demigods. Harry had arrived during it, but, by the time he had finished filling out some paperwork and answering Chiron and Mr. D's questions, it had been long over and he was sent to bed.).

Gods he hoped that whoever was supposed to teach him how to ride those massive creatures was some sort of animal-whisperer and could make sure they knew he wasn't a chew toy or stomping-target. Why were they so big anyways?! They were predators, they had no reason to be so big!

"You okay, Harry?" Luke asked when Harry finally reached the Cabin, still plucking hay from his hair. Harry gave him an unhappy look.

"I met Clarrise, charming girl, really," he told the Counselor. "Took her on a run through the woods, and then the strawberries, but the nymphs didn't want her to leave because she knocked down some plants, and I took refuge in the stables. Luke, why are horses so bloody _big_?!" He moaned and hid his face in his hands, and Luke, bemused, shook his head and decided to ignore the problem at hand.

"Come on, kiddo," he said calmly, soothingly. "Lets get that straw off you. That's got to be itchy." Disgruntled, Harry sighed and agreed.

It _was_ awfully itchy, after all...

**A/N: **Ta Da! Here you go!

Clarrise is Clarrise, Harry uses his brain and supposedly non-existent Self_Preservation instincts but is still Harry, and I made him afraid of horses (it's temporary, don't worry, but a lot of my family is rather short, and every time one meets a horse for the first time, their main issues is how big horses are, and how curious they are. My little sister, for three years, was absolutely convinced that the horses smelled her fear and were trying to make her more scared on purpose by being extra touchy. Shit was hilarious, seriously!)

And look, Zeus got a scene, thanks to Reviewer _**Shadowblayze**_ who wanted to see it.

Thank you for all the reviews, it's 3:12 AM here, I am going to bed.

Night, all! See you tomorrow!

**When I Finished Typing This Chapter:**

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	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** Yay, a lot of people are happy with the last chapter, go me!

Now, I have a message for those people who are complaining because they took that little mini-rant I did a few chapters back as a confirmation that this fic is going to be slash, and some of them (NOT ALL, only some) have been kinda bitchy about it, so, here:

THERE IS NO WARNING IN THE SUMMARY BECAUSE I HAVEN'T DECIDED IF THIS FIC WILL BE SLASH OR HET, OR CONTINUE AS GEN!

I am sorry for those who feel like they can't read this fic just because I wrote that mini-rant and they freaked out, but, seriously guys, my usual readers all know this, but I LITERALLY wing-it with EVERY fic I write. I have no clue whose going to do what, do WHO, or anything, which is why I tend to put it to a vote in the chapters!

Ugh, seriously, you guys, calm your tits. IF this becomes Slash, I'll add the warning AND put it in an authors note, I'll even put bold in the fic so you can skip over scenes in case you DO want to continue reading because you like my fic, just not the pairing.

Seriously, with all the fuss, I MAY just take that one Reviewers suggestion/request that Harry just remain chaste and not date ANYONE because he loves them all and doesn't want to hurt feelings.

Seriously, guys, it's NOT a big deal, calm down!

Jeez.

Now, onto better things!

The author _**Salllzy**_ wrote me another fic! Actually, TWO of them! One's called "Kronos Soft Spot" and it is _precious_, while the other one is called "The Petition", which is kind of a what-if version of Harry petitioning to Zeus for the Hades Cabin, so, anyways, I recommend you read them.

Danke!

**When I Started Typing This Chapter:**

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**For Want of Family**

**Chapter Seven**

_**Gringotts Bank, Diagon Ally Division**_

It was an average day in the Wizarding Bank. The Tellers dealt with the Wizards, the Weighers checked gems and coins for frauds and imperfections, and the Cart-Drivers scowled and took the customers to their Vaults while trying to terrify them into compliance, or at least silence, with the cart ride.

A non-Gringotts owl flew in through the special opening in the rafters, caught the attention of all Goblins there, who began to watch it eagerly, while still going about their daily business. Within Gringotts, a non-approved owl meant one of two things.

1.) Someone needed money, or was sending paperwork to get money transferred, and thus was sending a letter to their Account Manager or

2.) Some Goblin was about to _become_ an Account Manager.

You see, the Goblin Bank is run on very archaic and strange (to Wizards) traditions. The Cart-Drivers are the lowest in the Bank hierarchies, followed by the Tellers, then the Weighers and, finally, the Account Managers. The Director of the Bank, and the Guards who protected the Bank (and fed the Dragons) were exempt of this hierarchy, as their existence withing Gringotts was ordered by the King of the Goblin Nation and his Advisers. Now, Goblins could only rise through the ranks in a few ways.

They could challenge a higher-ranking Goblin to a fight, and the winner gets said position. They could be the child of higher-placed Goblin and gain the position when said Goblin died of natural causes or retired due to injury or old age. Or, a Wizard can specify that they want a specific Goblin, which the only requirement for is knowing said Goblins name, providing a sample of their blood and magic, and giving that Goblin a piece of sensitive information.

The Snowy Owl flew with a purpose as sharp, eager eyes followed her. With a flourish, she landed gracefully on the shoulder of one rather short (even for Goblins) Cart-Driver, and imperiously offered him her letter. The Goblin, wary of a trick, cautiously took the letter, and watched as the Snowy Owl barked at him, before flying into the rafters to rest and wait for what must be a reply. Turning the letter in his hands, the Goblins eyebrows lifted, as he found his name on the envelope. Curious, but not really expecting too much (several of the banks clients remembered his name, usually because they wished to curse it after he had taken them along the Tracks), Griphook, Son of Fistknife, Senior Cart-Driver, opened the letter, and began to read.

When he reached the end, he was grinning ferally, sharp fangs barred with glee. With a snap of his long, gnarled fingers, much like the way of House Elves, the letter disappeared to the Directors Office, and, in a shimmer of gray light, Griphook, Son of Fistknife, _Former_ Senior Cart-Driver, became the Account Manager of not _only_ one of the Banks most prestigious Vaults, but _also_ the Manager of all Vaults connected to it through the Potter Heir.

In a single letter, he had just become the most influential Goblin within the Diagon Alley Division.

As a result, his uniform was changed. Now he stood dressed in a black suit, with a dark gray tie. Hooked onto his breast pocket was a simple clip that held the Potter Family Insignia (A rearing griffon), encircled with a circle of flame.

As he sauntered out of the room, Griphook's grin turned nastier at the scowling, unhappy gazes of his fellow Bankers.

He had a previous Account Manager to question, because even he, in his former post, had noticed some rather disturbing issues with the way the Potter Accounts had been handled in the last eleven years.

If some Goblin had been cheating _his_ new customer, heads would _roll_.

**~(Line Break)~**

It had been a week since Harry had sent his letter to Gringotts. During this time, he had managed to get his hands on some special paper from the Athena Cabin, which made it easier for him to sketch out his plans for both the Hades Cabin and the Hermes Cabins... Of course, they were just the barest bones, because Harry couldn't draw very well, and depending on his reply from the Goblins, certain things would be changed, but it was a beginning.

He had completed his first Strawberry Saturday (which had been interesting, as he'd never actually handled the plants before, but a very nice Daughter of Demeter had helped him out until he felt confident enough to work on his own), and was now standing in the disorganized chaos that was Mr. D's office, trying to decide where to start first.

"Deal with the bookshelves," the God's voice announced as he walked past Harry with an aggravated scowl. "Daddy Dearest has demanded that I send in the paperwork for the last six years, so I actually _have_ to do it, or he'd promised to extend my punishment." He scowled as he dropped into his desk chair, opening a drawer that was much bigger on the inside than the out, and pulling out a huge stack of paperwork with a scowl. Harry decided to leave the irritated God to his work, and obediently went to the bookshelves.

The next two hours past in relative silence between the two, with Harry cleaning and organizing the books and knickknacks and Dionysus grumbling about his work and drinking Diet Coke like it was about to be disbanded.

Harry had just finished carefully placing the last little statue (a glass bottle with a garden in it, like those bottle-ships his Aunt had admired in magazines), when Dionysus cursed.

"I blame you for this, you know," he informed the Demigod tartly, leaning back with a scowl at the barely-dented stack of papers. "My Father never _cared_ about this sort of thing _before_ you pitched a fit about the Hades Cabin. _Now_ he's punishing _me_ because he can't smite you, or Aunty Hestia will be angry with him." Harry hesitated, torn between feeling guilty that he was causing the Director more work, indignation over being blamed, and disbelief that the God was complaining about doing work he was _supposed_ to be doing in the first place.

"...Would it be easier if I organized the paperwork for you?" He finally decided on, extending an olive branch and firmly reminding himself that this was a God and that Gods tended to be snippy and easily-insulted. Mr. D huffed and shoved back from the desk, standing with a wave at the tall pile.

"Have at it," he replied moodily. "I'm going to go, I don't know, walk or something. I'll be back in an hour. Maybe." Dionysus stalked out of the room, and Harry rolled his eyes and got to work, deciding to start splitting the pile up by dates first thing, and setting papers _without_ dates in their own pile.

He worked diligently on his project, ignoring when an hour passed and Mr. D had yet to return. He just figured it was a sort of snub, because the God was irritated, and continued to work. When lunch came about, Argus the Many-Eyed Head of Security was kind enough to bring him two sandwiches, a small salad, and bottle of water. Not very hungry, but grateful for the break, Harry split one of the sandwiches into three mostly-even, and set them on fire himself. One went to his mother, telling her he loved her and missed their fire-side chats. One went to Hades informing him of the slow progress he had made and apologizing for the wait on his Cabin. And the last piece went to Zeus, telling him that he would be receiving the paperwork he wanted from Dionysus as soon as he finished organizing it, and the Wine God finished filing it properly.

With that done, he continued to work while absently eating, until his neck and back ached, and his eyes did as well, and he wanted nothing more than to take a hot shower and sleep for a day.

"Go to dinner, Harley Powder," Mr. D ordered bluntly as he stalked in, eyeing the neat, small groups of paper that littered his desk in chronological order from oldest to most recent. "I thought you'd have left _hours_ ago." Harry stood with a stretch and a groan, grimacing as his muscles and spine protested.

"I'm not quite finished, but I guess it'll do for now," he told the God as the Half-Blood tried to pop his neck, wincing at the almost-pain/relief as the rapid cracks sounded. "I can finish tomorrow or the next day, if you want?" Mr. D stared at him incredulously, and then stepped forward to take his shoulder in hand, steering him out the door.

"Go _eat_, Harper," he ordered sternly, frowning. "You can come by tomorrow to finish cleaning the office, but only after you do whatever lessons you've been assigned. Not before, understand?" Harry rolled his eyes, and ducked into the light, absent cuff the action earned him, smiling fondly up at the God.

"Yes, sir," he agreed amicably enough, and obediently headed out of the Big House and off towards the Dining Pavilion. Dionysus stepped in front of the office window, frowning slightly as he watched the strange little Firstborn trot off, joined by the Apollo Cabin Counselor.

"Your child is so strange sometimes, Aunty," he murmured, and shook his head, turning towards his desk and eyeing the neat stacks of paper with a hum. As he got to work, filing out papers much, _much_ faster than he did before, a slow, sly half-smile curled his lips.

He did believe he had just, inadvertently, gotten himself a secretary.

**~(Line Break)~**

Hermes freaking _loved_ the kid. He was going to give him the best damn gift he could find, maybe a car or something, or something else that was useful, because damn if that brat wasn't Hestia but with a temper. The Messenger God had hunted down a picture of the mortal woman Hestia had fallen for, and _damn_ she was gorgeous, and her husband was too (and didn't _that_ just make Hestia's little love-affair even more scandalous, that she'd been involved in a threesome for her first time? Lucky girl!).

If their kid didn't grow up to be a heart-throb, Hermes would eat his own shoes.

Anyways, gorgeous parents and future-looks aside, Hermes loved the kid. He had a good head on his shoulders, and his heart was in the right place. If he managed to actually make Hermes's kids happier, the God would sacrifice something to _him_...

Or buy him a lifetime supply of chocolate or something, kids liked that, right? Hestia loved chocolate, so, maybe her kid would appreciate it... Or give it to his Mom, which seems more likely.

Damn, he was just so cute, like a puppy, all eager and shy and sweetness rolled into a tiny, big-eyed, fluffy-haired package.

Aphrodite was placing bets with the minor Gods one whether the kid would catch the eye of certain Demigods, and he was _so_ going to get in on that. Hades, if he was lucky, maybe he could get the kid to pull his _own_ kid back from the brink he was dancing on. Hermes loved Luke, no matter _what_ he thought, but Laws were Laws and, if he broke them or even bent them too far, Zeus would as soon say "Fuck it" and kill Luke just for spite.

He'd done it before, for lesser offences.

But, if this little Fire Starter could get his little adorable love-claws into Luke...

Maybe his son could be saved.

Even Gods could hope, after all.

**~(Line Break)~**

Persephone was pleased. Her Husband was getting a Cabin (though if he cheated on her again without her permission, she was going to banish him to Cerberus's cave for a decade, and then make him do all the paperwork that built up as a result, before he got any from _anyone_ again), she as getting almost daily sacrifices of lemon drops (while she wasn't a fan of the mortal candy, burnt lemon smelled _lovely_, so she could forgive the source), and she was back in Olympus with her mother and her gardens.

Finding out her Aunt Hestia had a child was a shock but, from what she'd seen about the little boy, and his earnest belief that her Husband _deserved_ a Cabin, that he had just as much a right as the other Big Three to have one, well. He _was_ her son, and Aunt Hestia had always been quietly disappointed whenever the Gods argued with one another. She _was_ the Goddess of _family_, and, while she accepted that family often fights and argues, she wasn't very _happy_ about it.

Still, Persephone was pleased with the little lad. He was cute, and made her Husband happy, and Hades, in turn, sought to make _her_ happy, so, in the end, Persephone wins.

And she does so love to win.

**~(Line Break)~**

"Poor sweetling," Aster cooed as she placed an extra helping of peach cobbler on Harry's plate while the boy tried to work the kinks that were still plaguing his back. "You worked so hard today, you deserve something special." Harry smiled up at the flower-nymph, rubbing at one of his eyes tiredly.

"Thank you, Miss Aster," he told her bashfully; the nymph giggled and kissed his temple, before skipping off to pass out more cobbler with her sisters.

"You are ridiculous," Charlie grumbled next to him, and Harry just smiled at him.

"Would you like some of my cobbler?" he asked the older boy, still smiling. "I'm not sure if I can eat it all..." The older boy shook his head in disbelief, and Harry shrugged. "Okay, I'll just give some to my Mum." With that, he turned back to enjoy his dessert, smiling as the Demigods around him chatted easily. As he ate, however, he felt a slow, ominous feeling growing in his chest, to the point where he just stopped eating, staring down at his plate with a small frown, trying to figure out what was wrong...

Because something _was_ wrong.

Getting up abruptly, Harry started walking away, ignoring Luke and Charlie, when they called after him in confusion. Harry kept walking, speeding up slowly, until he was running, heart pounding as he ran towards entrance of Camp, scrabbling into his pocket for the map his Mum had given him to guide him safely, which was starting to glow like hot embers, just as he crested the hill.

Two pairs of footprints were moving towards the camp, small wings on the shoes. Behind them ran a large red triangle, and a smaller triangle.

Without a thought, Harry shoved his map into his pocket, and lunged down the hill toward the two running footprints, calling on his Fire and feeling it light his skin from within.

He rand down the long road and, after just a few moments, he spotted them, two tall boys with brown hair and, behind them, snarling in rage, was a massive, golden lion and beyond _that_ was what appeared to be a harpy, who looked more interested in watching the lion catch the two boys than attacking herself.

"Go!" Harry shouted at the boys, and his hands ignited into flames, green eyes blazing. The two boys, who seemed to be twins, parted enough to run past him on either side, though they (stupidly, in Harry's opinion) skidded to a stop barely five feet behind him. One, or both, of them shouted something to Harry, but he couldn't hear them as his body exploded into a roaring flame just as the lion lunged at him with a roar.

Harry, small as he was, missed getting killed in that first attack by barely six inches, and, instead, found himself slamming into the lions' chest with an 'oomph!' sound, and clung as tight as he could, closing his eyes as the lion roared in pain and tried to get him off. The Flames roared higher and hotter, beginning to edge into blue at the center where Harry clung, trying not to gag as the smell of burning fur and flesh filled the air. The lion tried to roar again, but couldn't choking and making a horrible, retching sound as it stumbled.

Only a few moments later, it was done, and the lion turned to golden dust, leaving behind a badly burnt pelt in Harry's arms. With a shudder, the Demigod burnt it the rest of the way, giving it to the Lady Artemis as she _was_, after all, the Huntress, with an apology for it's charred state. That done, Harry took slow, steady breaths and sat on the burn road, slowly pulling his flames in, until he sat there, steam rising off of him and skin gleaming with the flickering of fire beneath his skin.

Swallowing heavily, nauseous and close to horrified tears at the thought that he had just _burned an animal to death_, the twelve-year-old managed to climb shakily to his feet and turn, shivering, towards the twin boys he had saved. The Harpy was nowhere in sight, either dead or having fled, and the boys were staring at him with wide eyes.

They stood there, for several seconds, until Harry shook his head and offered a weak, trembling smile, and the twins looked at one another, before looking back to him.

"_Awesome_," they both breathed, and Harry felt himself flush even as he winced.

And thus, Harry met the Stoll Twins, Sons of Hermes, and wondered if he'd always have to deal with prankster twins, wherever he went as he returned to the camp with them in tow, to enjoy snacks around the Camp Fire.

The Stoll's just called him their Firefly, and told him to eat more marshmallows and shut up.

It was a good beginning, to a good friendship.

**A/N:** Ta-Da! Harry's People Saving Thing came in, and so did the Stolls! I couldn't find out when they came into the Camp, or how old they were, so I'm winging it, okay?

Also, they learned that you don't pull the Nemean Lion's tail. It doesn't like it.

Enjoy!

**When I Finished Typing This Chapter:**

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	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** OMG, everyone loves that Harry's a secretary, and everyone wants the Stoll Twins to be Mama Bears pretty much, I love it! XD

Danke!

**[Small Edit before posting]** This chapter was actually a lot shorter, so I tossed in the last two scenes for you guys. Sorry for how short it still is, but I hope you enjoy it anyways.

**When I Started Typing This Chapter:**

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**For Want of Family**

**Chapter Eight**

Harry bit back a sigh as he was reading over the _thick_ folder of information Griphook had sent him. Hedwig and two brawny Gringotts owls had dropped it off with him not even an hour before, along with a letter informing him that Griphook was now in charge of Harry's Vaults, and that there was going to be some sort of internal investigation, because the previous Account Manager had done something? Harry wasn't very sure, there was some words involved that he didn't know. The point of the whole, four-inch-thick folder, however, was that he had a lot of money, and that he couldn't touch anything but his Trust Fund until he reached seventeen.

Now, this wouldn't have been _too_ bad, but the Galleon-to-drachma conversion was ten Galleons to 1 drachma, which was down right _exorbitant_ if you asked Harry, but it was a fact. So now, here he was, trying to make sense of all the legal jargon and money-stuff that was his responsibility, while also trying to figure out how many drachmas he'd need to pay for the Cabin and the renovations, when another letter arrived by Gringotts owl (this one much small and faster than the two that had come before).

"Hello," he greeted the smaller owl with a sigh, accepting the letter it offered to him, which was heavy and formal looking, making him grimace. He was getting tired of all this paperwork, especially since Mr. D had him organizing the mess that was his filing system (or, rather, the drawer where the God _literally_ just tossed everything and lived up to the 'out of sight, out of mind' cliché).

The owl just chirped at him, fluffed its feathers to make itself look bigger and more important, then screeched at him and took off towards the Athena Cabin, where it would most likely get spoiled with treats for being the Goddesses Sacred Animal. Harry sighed, and reluctantly popped the wax seal off the back of the letter, opening it and pulling out a packet of papers, with a note to him on top from Griphook.

_**Heir Potter,**_

_**The following packet is the required information, contract, and inventories of a recently opened Vault made specifically for projects like the ones you have you have taken upon yourself.**_

_**Please read it through all the way, before you fill out the required information. **_

_**May You Be Ever Prosperous.**_

_**Griphook**_

Harry blinked, and set the letter aside, before reading over the packet carefully but curiously.

_Elysium Bound Corporation_

_Help for the Good_

"What," he deadpanned, staring at it, bewildered, before carefully reading through the information. Slowly, his eyebrows rose, and he stared, bewildered still, but with excitement rising, and an incredulous grin lighting his face.

Lord Hades, apparently (and a few other Gods from the looks of the Donors information), approved of Harry's plans, and had opened an account under the Corporations name to fund it. With the sheer amount of drachmas he'd been given access to, once he filled the contract and filed it with Gringotts, was enough to build _several_ Cabins. Of course, one of the stipulations in the contract was that the Vault's contents be used only on projects that had permission from the actual _owner_ of the Vault or his brother companies: Thunderbird Law Offices and Trident Conservationist Associations.

So, if he wanted to use the drachmas for anything but his two current projects, he'd need the permission of Hades, Zeus, or Poseidon.

He could definitely work with that.

Filling out the contract, he watched as the parchment glowed, rolled itself up into a scroll, and disappeared with a soft popping sound. With that done, Harry gathered all of his account information and put it into his trunk before locking and shrinking it. You know, he had never realized how the heavy thing worked so well as a desk, until he'd had to use it as one. Now he wasn't sure what he would have to do if he ever lost it, it was so handy, just being able to pull a desk/trunk from his pocket...

Harry shook his head firmly, gathering his scattering thoughts while battling a yawn. Ever since his battle with the Nemean Lion (which was, he discovered, the name of the large cat he'd burnt to death), he hadn't been able to sleep without the smell of cooking flesh and burning hair in his _throat_, and the sound of that horrible, wet retching in his ears.

It had led to many sleepless hours over the past four days, staring up at the ceiling of Cabin Eleven, and listening to the Children of Hermes and Undetermined sleeping.

Sighing, Harry got up and began to wander towards the Dining Pavilion. It wasn't time for lunch yet, but maybe Aster wouldn't mind him trying to sleep next to her flowers. The sunlight and the sweet scent would hopefully chase the nightmares away...

Well, he was tired enough to try it, in any case.

**~(Line Break)~**

Ares didn't want to like the little shit.

He was a wimp, and a midget. He couldn't fight with a blade for shit, couldn't really work with _any_ weapon at all, besides his Fire and that bit of Magic Hecate accidentally gave his ancestors. He was a pansy-assed goody-two-shoes, and Ares _hated_ those kinds of people.

But the little fucker had balls, he'd give him that. Stupid as fuck, to run pretty much into the _mouth_ of the Nemean Lion, but he had balls, holding onto the damn thing until it died.

He'd looked through a couple of other things the brat had done, purely out of boredom induced curiosity, and he could admit that the midget seemed to find danger worse than most Demigods, even the stronger ones that got popped out thanks to Thunder Nuts, Zombie King, and Aquaman.

It probably helped that the brat being alive would bring a Magical War about, and _those_ were entertaining! As pathetic as Hecate's Mistake's were, Magic could do some _damage_!

Still, the brat was pathetic...

Even if the Human Torch impression he did was amusing.

...

Fuck, he had to stop watching stupid ass movies with Aphrodite, they were poisoning his brain.

Grumbling to himself, Ares adjusted his sunglasses, and revved the motor to his Chariot-come-Motorcycle, and took off with a roar down the street, tires squealing.

**~(Line Break)~**

Harry was dreaming. He knew he was, because he had never been to the sea before he'd reached Camp Half-Blood, and he had _definitely_ never been to what looked like a small, uninhabited tropical island.

"Don't worry," a male voice told him kindly, and Harry turned quickly from the admittedly beautiful view of the sea, to find who was speaking. "You're not _really_ here, child."

The man... God? definitely a God. The _God_ standing before him was about six feet tall, with broad shoulders but a narrow waist. His skin was deeply tanned, his hair and neatly trimmed beard black, and his eyes were sea-green and surrounded by laughter-lines. He was wearing khaki shorts, brown leather sandals, and a bright blue Hawaiian shirt covered in brightly colored fish with little bubbles and strands of seaweed.

"...Lord Poseidon?" Harry guessed; the God chuckled, smiling at Harry, and the wrinkles around his eyes and mouth deepened.

"Exactly," the God agreed, before nodding past Harry. "Come, sit with me so we can talk." Harry turned, and blinked at the beach chairs and bright blue umbrella that hadn't been there a second ago.

"...Okay?" he offered, bewildered, and one of the Gods large, warm hands landed on his shoulder, gently steering the Demigod to the chairs. Once he was seated, the God sat in his own chair, and a tall glass of iced strawberry lemonade, with bright orange bendy straw and a yellow umbrella, appeared before Harry, and the Demigod instinctively grabbed it, afraid it would fall.

They sat silently, listening to the waves and distant sea gulls, and Harry nervously took small sips of his drink, glancing over at the God who appeared to be patiently waiting for something.

Hesitantly, Harry cleared his throat.

"You, er, wanted to talk to me? Lord Poseidon?" He asked tentatively; the God hummed, and took a sip of his own drink (some bright blue concoction, with a green straw and purple umbrella).

"My sister loves you, you know," the God told the Demigod easily, watching the waves while Harry felt his breath catch, eyes going wide with uncertainty. "You're her Firstborn, her Harry, her _only_ child, and she loves you with all the strength in her body. You make her happy, and, since she claimed you, she's been brighter and quicker to smile than I've seen her in _ages_." The Sea God sat up, and turned to sit in the chair sideways, his feet on th eground as he faced the Demigod, looking at him solemnly, while Harry ducked his head, absently playing with the umbrella on his drink, uncomfortable under the intense stare.

"I love my sister," the God told him seriously. "I have loved her since I first laid eyes on her. Since I first sat at her Hearth. Since the first time I stepped into a place she was, and felt like I was coming _home_, I have loved her. And I have _never_ seen her as happy as she is, when she's talking about _you_." Harry felt himself blushing, but he couldn't care, a warm, soft smile curling his face, and joy making his heart soar higher than any flame could ever reach.

"Which is why I want you to talk to her about your nightmares," the Sea God told him bluntly, abruptly bringing Harry back to Earth, his eyes going wide and startled as he looked up at the God. "Hestia isn't a meddler. She won't ask questions, she won't poke her nose into your business. She will always wait until _you_ are ready to talk about it, and only offer advice if you _ask_ for it." The Sea God leaned forward, bright eyes kind but serious. "She knows you're having nightmares, Harry, but she doesn't want to upset you by asking about them," he told the Demigod gently. "But it hurts her, that you're hurting and haven't come to her yet. So, what _I_ am here for, is because I _am_ a meddler, and I want to see my eldest sister smile brighter than a forest fire again. I want her eyes to light up with joy when she speaks of you, instead of go dim with worry. That's what _I_ want." Poseidon leaned back, and looked at the shell-shocked Half-Blood sitting next to him, before smiling faintly.

"And I think you want that too."

There was the sudden roar of a wave against a cliff, the boom of a heavy storm, and the rumble of an earthquake, and, suddenly, Harry found himself shooting up, gasping for breath and ears ringing, looking around himself wildly.

He was at Camp, lying in the thick grass on the Pavilion Hill, surrounded by Aster's flowers.

_It was a real dream? Or did a God just give me a counseling session?_ he wondered, before shaking his head, and scrambling to his feet. It didn't matter if it was a dream or therapy or _whatever_.

He had a mother to talk to.

Harry darted into the Pavilion and paused briefly to thank Aster for letting him nap next to her flowers, earning a smile and a kiss to his temple, before he climbed into the bronze basin of Sacred Fire, feeling the heat and magic in the Sacred Flames embrace him.

_Mum?_ he thought towards her; she answered immediately.

_"Is something wrong, my Harry?"_ Hestia's young voice asked with concern; Harry nibbled on his lower lip, and closed his eyes.

_Can I talk to you about something?_ he asked uncertainly; Hestia's power surrounded him in a cocoon of heat and love, and Harry sighed slowly as he sank into it.

_"Always, my son,"_ she told him softly, and Harry smiled.

_I've been having nightmares,_ he began, and spent the next hour talking to his mother. By the time he climbed out of the basin, it was time for lunch, and the bright smile on his face was second only to the glowing flames in his eyes.

Everything was going to be better now.

**~(Line Break)~**

"You cheated," a voice behind him complained, and Poseidon couldn't resist smirking as he turned to look at the pouting Sun God.

"I did no such thing," he replied easily; Apollo's pout deepened.

"You _knew_ I was going to give him a pep talk, and you _stole_ my idea!" He accused; Poseidon smirked and spread his arms wide in a "who me?" gesture.

"Not my fault you were slow, Nephew," the Sea God taunted; Apollo huffed at him, crossing his arms over his chest, before he smirked up at the currently-taller God.

"Then I'll just have to be faster next time, Old Man," he declared arrogantly, his smirk widening as Poseidon's eyes narrowed. With a flash of light, the Archer disappeared, and Poseidon's eyes narrowed further, and the tide picked up. With the sound of a wave breaking, he, too, disappeared, with a low growl of a distant earthquake.

"We'll see about _that_, _Nephew_."

**~(Line Break)~**

"I'm _fine_!" Harry complained as Conner and Travis Stoll fussed with his sleeping bag and pillow. (Harry had actually found out that they were _not_ Twins, apparently, but a year apart, with Travis being older, making him seventeen while Conner was sixteen. The two didn't mind, however, and often liked to trick people into believing they _were_ twins, so they asked for it not to get spread around. Harry agreed, if only because it was a _harmless_ prank, and it was kind of funny, too.)

"You haven't been sleeping well," Conner scolded simply as he dragged his own sleeping bag closer to the disgruntled Son of Hestia, Travis doing the same on his other side.

"And don't bother lying, little Firefly," the older brother added, blue eyes stern, but worried as well. "Even if we _hadn't_ been woken up on occasion by your constant fidgeting, the dark circles under your eyes would have given you away." Harry huffed and crossed his arms over his chest, sulking as the two older boys continued to fuss, though he couldn't help but feel shyly pleased that they _were_ making such a big deal over his lack of sleep.

"I don't think I'll have a nightmare tonight, you guys," he told the two of them with exasperation when they had snuggled into their own bags. The two Sons of Hermes gave him an identical quizzical look that had him smiling, before he shook his head. "I had a really long talk with Mum about it today," he admitted softly, snuggling down into his sleeping bag with a soft smile as he closed his eyes, glasses safely tucked away in one of his shoes.

"Did it help?" Conner asked curiously; Harry hummed in agreement, still smiling, and, unknown to him, the two boys shared a faintly relieved smile.

"Well, then, if you say so, we'll believe you," Travis announced, flopping down and folding his arms beneath his head, closing his own eyes, still smiling faintly.

"You'd know best about your own mind, I guess," Conner agreed amicably, rolling onto his stomach and resting his forehead on his own folded arms, the exact reverse of his older brother. Harry smiled, and hummed again.

"Goodnight, you guys," he murmured, yawning as he felt sleep crawling in on him.

"Goodnight, Firefly," the Stoll brothers murmured, also starting to fall asleep. Just as he drifted off, Harry felt a phantom sensation of a kiss on his forehead, and smelled smoke and fire.

_"Goodnight, my lovely little one,"_ his mother's voice whispered lovingly. _"Sweet dreams."_ Harry drifted off with the feel of his mother's love, the scent of a well-tended hearth, and the sensation of finally being _home_ in his heart.

He was still smiling deep into the night, and had no nightmares.

**A/N:** Oh, hey, look! I accidentally made some sibling/family-rivalry based off of history with an old love interest, oops, heh heh...

Oops.

**GEEK CORNER**

AHHHH! You guys!

The Titan Prometheus was the Titan of Forethought.

His brother, Epimetheus was the Titan of Afterthought.

**Pro**metheus = **Fore-**thought = **Before** Thought

**Epi**metheus = **After-**thought = **After** Thought

Are you still with me? _Look what I realized!_

**Pro**logue = **Fore-**Log = _**Before the Story**_

**Epi**logue = **After**-Log = _**After the Story**_

I just wanted to share that with you guys, danke~!

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	9. Chapter 9

**A/N:** OMG, I feel like such a bad person!

Last chapter, the Nightmares were suggested by the lovely _**UtopiaKnight39**_ and I completely forgot to add them in, so here you are.

Okay, and on another important note:

THIS FIC IS NOW PERMANENTLY GEN. There will still be crushes and puppy love and platonic love and all that, with males and females, but there will be NO major relationship for Harry.

HOWEVER!

I will most probably make a Side-Fic for this, that will be made up of one-shots/drabbles of relationships you'd like to see Harry with.

It won't be anytime soon, of course, but when I DO post it, you can send me PM's or Review for that fic, about pairings you want to see Harry in, and prompts and such, okay?

Love you guys~

Oh, and, in this fic, Hogwarts let's out the First of June, and Starts First of September. Harry has been at Camp all June, and it's Early July now.

**When I Started Typing This Chapter:**

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**For Want of Family**

**Chapter Nine**

Harry had learned a very important thing, in the three weeks he'd been at Camp Half-Blood.

Capture The Flag was a _horrible_ game and, if he couldn't get himself out of it by volunteering to reorganize Mr. D's paperwork _and_ work extra days in the Strawberry Fields, then he needed to be on Clarisse's Team. The Daughter of Ares did _not_ take kindly to the times he avoided her Swirly Initiation and, the one time he was on Luke's Team, she had spent the _entire game_, forcing him into the stream, until the game had finished (with Ares Cabin and Allies winning), and he had been soaked to the bone and shivering fiercely.

He had discovered that, Children of the Hearth? Do _not_ work well with water. Or, at least, not without preparation. He'd gotten a nasty cold that had needed Nectar to deal with.

Now, as Chiron was getting the Teams ready, he wished he could sneak off and hide somewhere.

Maybe he could use the excuse that he was still negotiating with the Goblins about using some of their Architects? They _were_ still set on not working on his project when he wasn't at Camp and, even with Magic, the building of the Hades Cabin would be slow, as they'd have to be working with materials Hades approved, and not many of the Gods Magic worked well with Mortal Magic unless they took a couple dozen safety measures.

"Not today, Midget," Clarisse's voice spoke up behind Harry, making him yelp as his hands burst in to flames, while the older Demigod (would she be a Demigoddess? Since she was a girl? Ugh, ignore it, Harry.) gripped him by the back of his Camp shirt and began dragging him off to be kilted out, making Harry look mournfully towards the Big House.

"You found him?" Louis Motor, the Hephaestus Councilor, said absently, as he and Lee eyed a map of the Monster Wood.

"Trying to sneak off," Clarisse informed them, and Harry grimaced as he was dragged off by the Demeter Cabin, to get dressed up in the dark bronze armor, with orange and brown leather, a plain circle of flame etched into the breastplate.

He looked bloody ridiculous, but, well, it _was_ made to honor his mum.

"Harry!" Lee called; the twelve-year-old dodged past the twin sons of Mr. D and joined the "war Council" reluctantly, grimacing as the Son of Apollo ruffled his hair like he always did.

"This game is going to be interesting," Louis told them, dark eyes narrowed as he looked over the map, blending with his dark brown skin as he frowned. "With the Dionysus Cabin, and the Apollo Cabin on our side this time, both teams have an even forty campers. Athena, Hermes, and Aphrodite Cabins are all against us, and, while the last group isn't much for fighting, the Athena cabin can convince them that we'll tear up their clothes or something ridiculous, and get that _mean_."

"Midget guards the Flag," Clarisse declared abruptly; Harry gaped at her, sputtering.

"What?!" He yelped, eyes wide. "Why me?!" The Ares Councilor narrowed her eyes at him, and Harry, wide-eyed, instinctively took a step behind Louis.

"It'll be your Hearth, Midget," she said slowly, eyes going narrowed. "And you can either guard it, or I'll dump you in the stream again." Harry shuddered, remembering the slimy mud and cold water, and meekly nodded.

Ares children were terrifying, and ruthless, and Harry did _not_ want to _ever_ get on their bad side. They were like a combination of Slytherin's ambition to win no matter the cost to others, the Hufflepuff's hard work and loyalty to there Cabin (and sometimes Allies, depending on personal vendettas), the Ravenclaws obsession with being first and being better, and the Gryffindor's love for adrenaline and lack of subtlety (for the most part).

They were _scary_.

"Okay, so," Lee started, deciding to ignore the who issue. "Harry will guard the Flag, but who will guard _him_?"

"The Twins," Louis answered. "They've call protecting the guard."

"Everything's set, then," Clarisse declared, and Harry sighed.

He _really_ didn't like Capture the Flag.

**~(Line Break)~**

Harry sighed from his seat at the base of the flag, on top of a tall boulder, bored. His Fire surrounded him and the Flag, while, down on the ground, Castor and Pollux prowled cheerfully, the poison ivy on the boulder answering to their vine-magic, and moving about like silent snakes, waiting to capture any enemies that tried to come through and give them a _nasty_ rash.

_Why do I even have to place this again?_ the twelve-year-old mentally grumbled again, pouting within his safe circle of Flames. There was a sensation of laughter, and the feeling of being hugged, and Harry found himself grinning suddenly. _Mum!_ He greeted happily in his mind; the phantom arms tightened affectionately.

_"Hello, my Harry," _his mother's voice greeted in return, and he got the feeling that she was smiling, and his glee made the Fire around him dance and grow brighter, hotter, and taller. _"What are you doing, sitting within the Flames during a game?"_

_I'm the Flag Guard, Mum,_ Harry informed her, and felt himself pouting. _My job is to sit here and make sure no one from the other team steals our flag._

_"Must be exciting,"_ Hestia offered, voice edged with amusement, and Harry huffed at her and crossed his arms, shifting with his red pen-sword, in pen shape, in his fingers, absently twirling it. He'd only remembered he'd actually _owned_ the silly thing, after Clarisse had tried to force an awkward dagger into his hand. While he was horrible with a blade, he, at least, felt a _little_ bit comfortable with the sword that had cut through the fangs of a Basilisk without melting, and kept it from eating him.

_Oh, yes, exciting,_ Harry grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. _Like watching paint dry and grass grow and a rock erode._ Laughter warmed his mind, and he could feel his mothers Fire join his own, darkening his bright orange flames, and lending a firmer touch to them, making them calmer.

_"It is, at least, good practice for your control, my son,"_ she told him affectionately. _"you are improving."_ Harry beamed proudly at the praise, and then blinked as te sound of shouts from below his perch told him that the "enemy" had arrived. Quickly, Harry crawled to the edge of his boulder, and poked his head through his Flames to watch.

A group of three Athena kids, and two Hermes kids had arrived and, though Castor and Pollux put up a hard fight, the two ended up tied up and guarded by one of the Hermes kids. Harry eyed the remaining "enemies", before wisely pulling his head back.

"That's cheating, you know!" One of the Athena kids, a girl Luke had introduced him to, named Annabeth, called up to him irritably. Harry rolled his eyes.

"No, it's not!" He called back. "Chiron said we were allowed to use everything at our disposal, but we weren't allowed to seriously maim or kill anyone. Also, the Flag Guards have to be two feet, _at least_ away from the Flag. I'm two-and-a-_half _ feet away from it, and my Flames are three feet. So, no, I'm _not_ cheating." He rolled his eyes again, and wondered if Hermione was an Athena child. She was bossy and I-know-best sometimes, so maybe? But, then again, she was also prone to fits of forgetfulness in stressful situations, when the Athena Demigods seemed to get more focused and sharp in such cases...

Harry blinked as an arrow shot through his Fire, turning to ashes and cinders, which splattered over his clothes and made him sputter.

"Oi!" He shoulder, indignant. "That almost hit me in the bloody _eye_, you bloody-!" He cursed in Greek when the next arrow came _over_ the fire, yelping as he skittered out of the way.

_"Language, my Harry," _his mother chided gently, amused, even though the Flames around him darkened noticeably with her interference, rising up and forming a lip, so that the flag was still in clear view, as per the rules, but no more arrows would threaten him from above.

_Sorry, Mum,_ Harry thought to her, honestly abashed at having cursed in front of his _Mum_. _Thank you for the cover_, he added, as a few more arrows burned to ashes before they could reach him.

_"I'm sending them to Apollo and Artemis,"_ his mother told him, and there was something wicked in her voice, like she was grinning mischievously while she spoke to him. _"I'm sure they'll appreciate the arrows raining down on them."_ Harry couldn't help giggling, grinning even as he heard the shouts of his teammates as they realized their 'base camp' had been infiltrated. A fight broke out, but, with all the arrows flying about, Harry decided to keep his head safely within his little Fire Shelter.

More of the "Blue" Athena Team arrived, and more of Harry's "Red" Ares Team arrived. Harry was _more_ than content to stay in his fire, but when one of the Hermes kids _flew_ up, with little winged shoes, He barely had time to un-cap his pen-sword, which transformed smoothly into the plain bronze blade with it's silver handle, to block the other boys own blade, which he had moved to knock the twelve-year-old out. Harry grunted under the blow and sent a dirty look at the boy he now recognized as Mark (who _still_ hadn't forgiven Charlie about the Spider from Harry's first day).

"Rude wanker," he complained, and yelped as the now-grinning Mark swung his blade again.

"Come on, kiddo," the older boy said teasingly. "You and I both know you're crap with a weapon!" Harry narrowed his eyes, and, with a flare of his will and a flex of his fingers, Flames coated his sword in time to cut cleanly through the other boy's blade, leaving him gaping as Harry then pointed the still-burning sword at him.

"I may be bad with a blade by itself," the twelve-year-old informed him tartly, miffed. "But that doesn't mean I can't get _creative_." Mark held his hands up, and surrendered, just as the End of Game Bugle sounded, meaning that someone had gotten either seriously injured or Red Team got the flag.

From the distant sounds of cheering, Harry was guessing it was the latter.

As he vanished his Fire and re-capped his pen-sword, Harry felt invisible lips press to his forehead, and smiled as his mother spoke up once again.

_"That's my boy."_

**~(Line Break)~**

Aphrodite was having fun. Emotions were _still_ flying all over Olympus thanks to Hestia's discovered Firstborn, and there were so many bets flying about her on which Demigods and Gods and Goddesses would jump the adorable little tyke when he was older, and she was just having a _blast_!

Sure, she knew that the only Son of her dear Niece was too much like his Mother when it came to her own department, but it was still fun, knowing that his heart was too big for anyone to truly hold, but still having all the other Gods and Goddesses placing bets on it.

And all the drachmas she'd be winning when they finally figured it out, would go into her "Date Night" fund.

She had yet to convince either her husband or Ares to watch _The Notebook_ with her, but she was determined.

**~(Line Break)~**

Hera disapproved of her newest nephews existence.

Not _only_ had her sister fallen, for a _mortal _woman, when Hestia had Vowed to forever remain a Virgin Goddess, but the mortal had been _married_ when her sister's son had been conceived.

If not for her sister's wish that he be left alone, Hera may have just placed a few "surprises" for him to deal with, but, she _did_ love her sister, and the idea that Hestia would both be grief-striken _and_ enraged at her actions (and the Hearth Goddess _would_ find out, as the Family Aspect of her Godhood meant that she had that irritating knack for _knowing_ when her younger siblings and their children had done something wrong, just like their _mother_, it was so _irritating_ some times), was all that stayed her hand.

But she would watch. And she would wait.

The boy _was_ a mortal, after all. They always died at some point. She would just have to be patient, and, once he was granted entrance to Elysium (Which he would, with his little crusade to give her brother a Cabin of his own), she would have to act quickly, and introduce him to the Lethe, before anyone could convince the other Gods to make him Immortal.

Hestia would mourn, yes. _All_ the Gods mourned their Firstborn.

But she would recover.

She was The Last Olympian, after all.

**~(Line Break)~**

Dionysus was _not_ spying, no matter _what_ the ridiculous little brats he watched over would say, if they saw him.

He was merely making sure that his little cousin wasn't mis-labelling his files, or snooping in his desk!

After all, the little Demigod (and he _was_ little. Far too tiny to be healthy, in any case, and Dionysus had vague plans about mentioning such to his Father the next report he would have to turn in.) had been diligently working on his admittedly chaotic paperwork for several weeks now...

Not that Dionysus was complaining, of course. He hadn't had paperwork this easy to file, since he bought his first winery centuries ago, when he had been just a random Demigod.

Ah, those were the days...

Not really.

The constant threats of Plagues and famine and unsanitary conditions were _horrendous_, and the wine was horrible, the parties tame, and the _rats_ were as big as _Hellhounds_, but that's all in the past.

Now, what he _should_ get back to doing is his spying...

Supervising.

He is _supervising_.

...

Ugh, stupid Demigods, with their slang and disrespect, getting him confused in his own head.

_Styx_, he needed a drink. something stronger than Diet Coke-

Ugh, alright! No need for the thunder warning... He wasn't even _doing_ anything, just _thinking_ about it, and he get's in trouble.

Ugh.

Oh.

His cousin was doing something.

...

Was he _really_ color-coordinating his folder tabs? _Really?_

Well, then.

Well.

...

Maybe he should have a break, before he broke something in his brain.

Nodding to himself, Dionysus snapped his fingers, and disappeared.

**~(Line Break)~**

"Holly Putter," Mr. D called as he walked into the office, expression deadpan as Harry looked up, blinking..

"Yes sir?" He asked curiously; the God walked over to the desk and looked over the work he had done.

"...Are those the monthly reports from Argus and Chiron on the state of the House and Barriers?" He asked slowly, leaning forward a bit to squint bloodshot eyes at the folder Harry was carefully organizing; the twelve-year-old nodded, confused. Usually Mr. D disappeared until around dinner of days where Harry didn't have to do much with the rest of the Camp.

"Er," Harry started, blinking rapidly. "Yes sir." Mr. D narrowed his eyes, eyeing the tabs, and Harry quickly scrambled to explain, shoving the binder he was using towards the Wine God. "Each tab is for a specific month, see, sir," Harry told him, pointing as he talked. "And the papers in each month or ordered, left-to-right, from newest to oldest, as I know you'd rather read newer reports than reports about things you can't change." Harry offered the god a tentative smile, feeling a little out of his depth as Dionysus merely hummed and took the binder in his hands, absently flipping through it.

After a few minutes of silence, in which Harry felt steadily more awkward and nervous, Mr. D nodded and closed the binder with a loud _snap_, making Harry jump and bite his tongue with a soft yip. Smirking slightly as the boy nursed his sore tongue with a pouting expression, the God of Wine and Revelry snapped his fingers, and another chair appeared. Sitting in it, he turned slightly towards the Demigod, who, while still cupping his mouth from the pain his bitten-tongue was in, watched him uncertainly. Mr. D pointedly slid the neatly-organized Binder into his desk drawer, and pointed at the Son of Hestia.

"Show me the work you've done so far about that project of yours, Hector," he told the boy; Harry blinked, and wondered, briefly, is the God's grounding covered using drugs, because he was being rather strange...

Then he shrugged, and rationalized that Dionysus _was_ the God of Madness, and the Demigod pulled out his trunk, un-shrinking it and pulling out his many folders of information and blueprints, shrinking his trunk and returning it to his pocket absently as he began to spread it out all over the desk.

"Wait," Dionysus ordered, and Harry stilled, blinking at him. "I want you to show me the blueprints first, and explain why you chose those materials, understand? We'll go over the ridiculous lawyer and money crap later." The God waved his hand, and said 'crap' neatly stacked itself off to the side, leaving various tubes of blueprints and notes on said prints, alone on the desk. Harry blinked rapidly, before turning an accusing look on the God.

"Why don't you just do that with _your_ paperwork?" he asked, voice edged with a frustrated whine, and Dionysus smirked lazily at him, waving his hand and taking a drink from the can that had appeared in his other hand.

"Didn't feel like it," he said airily; Harry's jaw dropped as he stared at the God incredulously. "Now, explain these to me, Horace," Mr. D ordered; Harry took a slow breath, and firmly pushed his incredulity and irritation off to the side.

_Gods are fickle_, he firmly reminded himself, before leaning forward and unrolling the main blueprints for the Hades Cabin he'd had the Goblins Architects draw up on his descriptions. Pointing at it, he began to explain what it all was.

"The whole things is going to be made up of smoky-quartz, with an obsidian under-layer, in order to prevent..." and on it went. Dionysus stayed surprisingly attentive during the whole explanation and the ones following, and asked questions about his choices, made suggestions about other things, discussed cost, size, and time frames.

They spent a good, long time talking, until it was suddenly time for dinner, and Harry found himself amazed as he sat at the Hermes Table.

He had had a long, civil conversation with the God who has, in the past, rather bluntly announced his dislike for Heroes and Demigods besides his own two sons as a whole...

And Harry's neck no longer hurt from being hunched over horrendous amounts of unorganized papers filled out with a mixture of doctor-like cursive, chicken scratch worse than his own, and strange, extravagant looping that tended to use a form of short-hand he had difficulties translating.

It had been... Strangely relaxing, all together.

He wondered if they'd be able to do it again.

**~(Line Break)~**

From his seat at the Director's Table, Dionysus smiled wryly, and lifted his can of Diet Coke in a vague salute to the ceiling. _Now you can't say I never did anything for him, Aunty_, he thought and, if the Sacred Fire flared just a little higher, grew just that bit deeper, well, he wasn't about to say anything.

The disrespectful little brats around him might start getting the idea he gave a damn, if he did.

**A/N:** Ta-Da!

And yes, I made Hera kind of a cold bitch, but yeah.

I don't like anyone who would do all the shit she's done. I mean, seriously, she _threw her newborn son off a cliff_ because he didn't _look_ nice?!

The fuck?!

Ugh, anyways, sorry about the delay, this chapter just dragged _on_ for me. I had to asked help (Kudos to _**mastermind234**_, btw) in order to get past a certain scene near the beginning of the chap, so, yeah.

Ta-Da!

**GEEK CORNER!**

So, did any of you guys know that Scylla, the six-headed-monster from the Cliffs of Doom, used to actually be a really gorgeous nymph?

There's like, three different stories to how she ended up like she did.

In one, the Sea God Glaucus (a prophetic sea-god who was once mortal but ate a magical plant and became immortal... I vote Permanent Gillyweed, lolz) fell in love with her, but when she didn't love him back, he cursed her.

In another, Glaucus went to Circe to get a potion to make Scylla love him, but he didn't know Circe loved _him_, and so she went and poisoned Scylla's bathing pool and, when the nymph climbed in, she became a monster and Glaucus banished her to the cliffs.

And, in the third one I've found, _Poseidon_ was the one who loved her, but his wife, Amphitrite, got super pissed about it and got Circe to curse Scylla, and Poseidon sent her to the cliffs so she would be safe (though there was also the belief that Scylla banished herself and climbed so high into the cliff so that the Sea God wouldn't see her monstrous face)

So, yeah, wow, didn't know that...

OH, and, also, there's a saying (called an idiom) that goes "between Scylla and Charybdis" which means: having to choose between two dangers, when either one will cause damage.

So, yeah...

Yay! Knowledge!

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	10. Chapter 10

**A/N:** Here you guys go! Explanation for a little not-really-hidden fact last chapter is down in the Geek Corner, which is officially being renamed the GREEK Corner, 'cause it's cute and I can, lolz

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**For Want of Family**

**Chapter Ten**

Harry felt very proud as he watched the tall, abnormally thin Architect Goblins working with the short and overly muscular Movers to set the heavy base of the Cabin, the three-foot cubes of smoky quartz, being placed in the three-foot-deep hole in the ground, over the two-inch-thick sheet of pure Stygian Iron there, which had been melted down in the Underworld and given for this specific project, along with obsidian from the Fields of Punishment, to serve in the building of Hades Cabin.

It was funny, actually, how Hades Cabin was to be made by hand and only the finished project Blessed by him, when the other Gods Cabins had all been magic'd into being by said Gods...

"Harry!" Luke's voice called, and the twelve-year-old blinked, turning towards the older boy with a confused smile.

"Hey, Luke," he replied; the Son of Hermes rolled his eyes and caught Harry's wrist, beginning to drag the boy after him.

"Don't you 'hey, Luke' _me_, Harry," the Counselor told him, sounding disgruntled. "It's almost time for the annual field-trip to Olympus, and you haven't showered or changed into clean clothes yet! We leave in _half-an-hour_, Harry," the boy reminded sternly; Harry flushed brightly and yelped, having lost track of the time while assisting the Goblins.

"Got it!" He shouted, and ran past Luke on his way to the showers, making the Counselor huff in exasperation, rolling his eyes.

The Son of Hestia could be so _scatterbrained_ sometimes, it was ridiculous.

**~(Line Break)~**

Olympus was extremely... _Gawdy_.

This was Harry's first impression, upon stepping into the Throne Room out of the elevator with the rest of the Demigods.

There was lots of gold and spectacular designs and inlay, and massive thrones that were set up in a horseshoe shape, the curve of their pattern farthest from the elevator, and facing them. The Gods, themselves, were in their Godly Forms, meaning they were several stories tall and very intimidating as a whole...

Except for his mother, who was in her usual child-form, tending to the massive fire setting to the side, out of immediate sight. Harry barely restrained himself from running to her side, because Chiron had told them all that they had to wait for Zeus to welcome them and bid them to enjoy their night on Olympus.

"Lords and Ladies," the Centaur greeted somberly, stepping forward and bowing, one fist over his heart. The cool stare of what must have been Hera met his much warmer, though cautious, gaze, before she inclined her head with a stiff, distant smile, while Zeus eyed their group with pursed lips beneath his thick, full beard (And what was it with beards among the Big Three? Was it a symbol of their standing? Did you get a bigger beard the stronger you were? What was it?)

"Chiron," the God King greeted, and the sound was like his thunder, deep and ominous. "I bid you welcome, and welcome to those who are in your charge." The Centaur straightened from his bow with a serious nod.

"We are honored for the invitation, Lord Zeus," he replied carefully; the God hummed lowly, and once more, thunder rumbled beneath his breath.

"Then may you enjoy your stay, and let this night find you and your charges well." With a nod, the Gods and Goddesses were suddenly normal-sized, and dressed in their preferred outfits, rather than the armor, togas, and beautiful Grecian dresses. The other Demigods shifted uncertainly, shyly, as their various parents wandered over, though some of the Gods stayed back, watching the events with varying expressions.

Permission given, Harry was off like a shot, bounding over to his mother, who stood to great him with a wide, warm smile, and he lunged forward to wrap her suddenly-twelve-year-old form tightly, earning a laugh from the gentle Goddess as she stumbled a step,holding him to her just as tightly.

"Hello, my son," she greeted affectionately as Harry buried his head in her shoulder, breathing in her scent of smoke and fire and _home_.

"Missed you, Mum," he whispered fiercely, and the Goddesses arms tightened, and she hid her face in his wild hair, closing her eyes as she, too, breath in his scent, the smell like the first plume of smoke before a fire catches, of embers beginning to cool, and the feeling comfort one gets when sitting with a loved one at the hearth. She smiled into his hair, pleased.

Her Firstborn was growing into his powers, like a small ember that would catch and become a blazing flame.

"I missed you too, my Harry," she whispered softly, and felt her heart soar when her son sighed with happiness and snuggled closer.

He boy was safe and in her arms once more.

**~(Line Break)~**

It had been half-an-hour before Harry realized something was off about the Throne Room. Turning, finally, from basking in the Sacred Flames and his mother's silent, affectionate company, the young Demigod stared curiously at all the thrones, eyeing their impressive forms with curiosity, before he spotted what was off.

With an unintentionally loud groan, Harry buried his face in his hands and rubbed tentatively at his temples, grimacing. Hestia chuckled as both Demigods and their Godly relatives, looked over at the noise in the otherwise quiet murmuring of their conversation.

"What has caused you trouble, my son?" she asked him fondly; the twelve-year-old lifted his head with a grimace, and turned dismayed green eyes to his mother's fire-filled ones.

"It's just like the Camp all _over_ again!" He moaned, and slumped sideways into her side while the Goddess smiled down at him lovingly. "_Why_ is it such a hard concept, to give respect to someone of equal standing in power?" He muttered, flopping down so that his head lay in his mothers lap while he frowned unhappily up at her. "I wont have to do the paperwork and planning for this, will I?" He demanded; Hestia chuckled at him softly, stroking his hair back and exposing his forehead, something in her fiery gaze darkening ominously as it trailed over the scar there, but she did not touch it, not matter _how much_ she wished to burn away the _parasite_ but, no.

Harry's soul was connected to it through Prophesy. It would play its part, and she _could not_ interfere.

There were forces at play that, if interfered with, could unbalance the Universe.

"It depends on what you speak, my child," she told him, pushing away her thoughts on the wretched soul fragment in his scar. Harry huffed, exasperated, and Hestia felt her spirit lighten at the admittedly adorable pout her gave her.

"The _Thrones_, Mum," he complained, gesturing dismissively at said seats. "There are Twelve of them, _just like camp._ Guess whose Throne is missing," he told her sourly, and Hestia could not help it.

She laughed, full and bright, and the room glowed with her joy, the fires of the Hearth and torches blazing and crackling, like miniature echoes of her laughter. Harry helplessly laughed with her, unable to stop himself as her joy affected him, his body flickering, the Fire within him answering to its Mother Flame and making his skin flicker with light.

As her laughter died down into chuckles, she leaned forward and kissed her Firstborn's forehead while he giggled helplessly.

"Never change, my joy," she whispered fondly, chuckling still, and Harry grinned up at her, bright with more mischief than Hermes the time he'd stolen Apollo's cattle, or the time he sang poor young Argus to sleep and got the youngling in trouble with Hera.

"Promise, Mum," he agreed amicably enough, but then remembered what they had been talking about before Hestia had let her mirth grow wild. His nose wrinkled and his lips pouted, and Hestia was caught by surprise at how much like his Mother he looked, like a little green-fire-eyed, dark-haired Lily laying in her lap.

It was a surprisingly sobering, yet warming, image, and she stroked his soft, wild hair tenderly.

"Will I need to petition for a Throne for Lord Hades as well?" he asked her, disgruntled. "I'm still negotiating with the Goblin Architects, because they want to use cheaper materials, and they keep wanting to make it so that any children who live there in the future will have to pay _rent_, Mum, and it is _ridiculous _at times. And, did you know that Mr. D doesn't organize his work? _Any_ of it! He _literally_ throws it into this bloody magical drawer and doesn't think of it again! It's been a horrible task, just getting every _four inches_ of paperwork situated every day, and I'm not even getting paid for it... But," He added, with a reluctant smile, and Hestia loved that especially, how her little Firstborn could get mad, but not truly _stay_ that way for very long. "I am having fun, cleaning and organizing things," he admitted, with a sheepish smile, and Hestia could not resist pressing a kiss once more to his brow, stroking his cheek lovingly and smiling down at him fondly.

"Go on," she told him fondly, and spent a while, listening fondly as he son chattered at her, far more talkative then he had been while eat his school, flames dancing in his eyes, the perfect mix of her and dear Lily, and his hands moving about while he spoke, much like James used to do when he was younger.

And, sitting there, listening to his tales about his camp, friends, projects, and the ideas he had, Hestia felt not _only_ content, as she had for centuries, but at _peace_ and _happy_ at Olympus.

She continued to smile, well after Harry had talked himself into exhaustion, and fell asleep on her lap.

**~(Line Break)~**

Harry woke abruptly from his peaceful sleep, tucked into his sleeping bag beside his Mum's Hearth, though she was nowhere to be seen. Confused about what woke him, he sat up, scratching his hair and squinting blearily about him.

The sound came again, a low, hushed breath, sharp and choked, like a bitten back sob. Frowning, something in his chest going tight, Harry ignored his lack of glasses, and carefully crawled towards the sound, his sleeping bag dragging behind him. He had to move around a few of the Hermes kids, climb over the senseless/dead-to-the-world Star Twins (as he had come to call Castor and Pollux, or Cas and Lux when they were feeling bored and lazy), and carefully dodge a suddenly out-flung arm when one of Clarisse's half-brothers rolled over with a short snore. Finally, he reached the very edge of this specific pile of Demigods, and found the source of the quiet, distressed sounds.

Luke was curled on his side under his sleeping bag, back towards Harry, and an arm looped over his head.

Not wanting to wake anyone, nor draw any more attention to his distressed friend then his movement already had, Harry just curled against his friend, back-to-back, and offered his silent comfort. Luck's voice hitched, and his shoulders trembled against Harry's. With a low sigh, Harry tilted his head back, and purposefully nuzzled it against the older boys shoulder, a move he had often done, when the Councilor had gotten one of the usual two spots next to Harry to sleep on the floor, as the beds were usually a Get There First kind of thing.

"...Harry?" Luke asked, voice quiet, but tight; Harry hummed, and turned to throw an arm around his friends waist, but he didn't say anything. He didn't know why Luke was crying, and so he wouldn't say anything.

Gods know how much he _hated_ it when people told him "it would be okay", when they had _no idea_ what had upset him, no idea if it was something that _couldn't_ be fixed. They were just pretty words so that the comforter could comfort _themselves_, and feel like they had done something to help.

"I'm here," he murmured, because _that_, at least, was true. He _was_ there, and if Luke wanted to just go back to sleep, to never speak of it, he would respect his friend's wishes.

But, if he wanted or needed to say something, Harry was there for him, and he would be that ear to hear him, the shoulder to lean on, the friend to care.

He would be that, because, despite anything that happened in the future, the good and bad and in between, Luke was _Family_, and Harry would do _anything_ to take care of his Family.

Luke said nothing, did nothing, for a long while.

Harry was about to fall back to sleep, when the Son of Hermes moved, and Harry found himself buried in Luke's chest, the older boys arms around him, and face buried in his dark brown hair. The older boy was shaking faintly, and a few tears landed on Harry's skin, but Harry didn't say anything.

Wrapping his arms around the older Demigod, Harry just held on, and let the other take comfort in him.

It didn't take too long after that, for the two to fall back asleep, curled around one another like puppies.

**~(Line Break)~**

Hermes let out a slow, pained breath, hidden from the Demigods area by a pillar. His chest hurt, and he slowly slid down the column, until he was sitting at it's base, knees nearly to his chin as he closed his burning eyes, throat tightening as he bowed his head, and covered his face with his hands.

He could feel his favored son slipping through his fingers, feel the hatred growing in Luke, and that sort of darkness, that sort of hate...

Well, like called to like.

Desperately, he prayed, something, as a God, that was rare for him. But here, he prayed, to whatever deity was willing to listen, whatever power that could help, be it Greek or Roman or one of the countless others that the mortals had brought into being through pure Belief, over the millions and billions of years they had existed.

Hermes prayed for his favored son.

And he prayed that the boy born from the Flames of Home and Family, would help his boy heal, and bring him back from the cliff edge he was walking.

He prayed and, in silence, he wept.

And, much like his son, he was joined by the unjudging, loving warmth of the Hearth, as Hestia wrapped her small arms around him, and held him softly, resting her forehead on his shoulder.

"I am with you, sweet Nephew," she whispered to him. "Do not despair."

But still, he wept, and prayed, and the two of them watched over their favored children through the rest of the night.

**A/N:** Yes, yes, very short, but for one, this chapter didn't want to be written, and, for two, I wanted some sadness at the end of one.

I also feel like I needed some more depth to Hestia and Hermes, because I kinda feel like I painted him as some hyper, spastic dude, but he spent the whole PJatO series trying desperately any way he could to get around Zeus and his laws, so he could save Luke, who was his favorite son.

I mean, dude, he got super pissed and bitter with Annabeth because the chick kicked Luke out of her house when he showed up and, I mean, yeah, it _could_ have been a trap, but I'm sorry, I'm one of those people who, even if you betrayed me and we were never going to be friends again, I would help you if you looked like shit and terrified and told me to run away with you (I wouldn't just run off, I'd make you explain everything, but, yeah, I would totally do that)

Ugh, anyways, I hope you enjoyed!

**GREEK CORNER**

Yes, the rename is firmly there, mwahaha.

People are bringing so many neat facts to my attention!

Like how Cerberus' name, originally translated, was Spot, which makes me remember Fluffy and think it makes much more sense now and Hagrid and Hades have the same humor (weirdly awesome)

And that Charybdis is, in some legends, a cursed Daughter of Poseidon and therefore Percy's half-sister (Dude. Talk about sibling rivalry!)

Now, I'm bringing to you MY fact (I slipped a clue about it into last chapter, mwahahahahaha)

Okay, so, Last Chapter, I had Aphrodite calling Hestia her "niece" and some people thought it was a typo, and it was pointed out that Aphrodite was younger and therefore the niece.

(Insert Wrong Answer Buzzing Noise)

Aphrodite is, technically speaking, a _Titaness_. She was born directly from Ouranos (Greek)/Uranus (Roman) the Sky Protogenoi/Primordial, who created the Titans with his Mother/Wife Gaia.

Aphrodite/Venus is Kronos' _Half-Sister_.

There are a couple of tales about her birth, explaining how she only had Ouranos/Uranus

In one, he was castrated by Kronos/Cronus and his penis thrown into the sea and, out of the foam rose Aphrodite/Venus.

In another, Gaia didn't want another child, captured his semen when he came, tossed it into the sea and, again, out of the foam (which apparently never existed until then, remember that next time you go to the sea) rose Aphrodite/Venus.

So, yeah. Aphrodite may be younger, but she IS the Aunt of the Gods, youngest sister of the Titans.

So, yeah.

**When I Finished Typing This Chapter:**

**Reviews** - 369

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**Follows** - 655

**Communities** - 23

**Views** - 37, 613


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N:** Here you guys go!

**When I Started Typing This Chapter:**

**Reviews** - 372

**Favorites** - 593

**Follows** - 668

**Communities** - 25

**Views** - 38, 879

**For Want of Family**

**Chapter Eleven**

By the end of July, the Hades Cabin was a skeleton of what it would, eventually, become. Harry had finally gotten the Architects to _at least_ agree to laying down the supports and such, and to cast a ward over the Cabin-in-the-making, to prevent weather from harming it, and to keep it from being tampered with.

He loved Camp Half-Blood, sincerely, it was the Home he'd never thought he'd have, with people who cared for him just because he was _Harry_, _not_ because he was the Boy-Who-Lived. But, he knew that he'd made a few enemies. Several members of the Athena Cabin were irritated that he was building a Cabin for the least-liked God, and that they couldn't fault his logic as to _why_. Ares Cabin was fifty-fifty on him, not liking how utterly pathetic he was without his fire, but not wanting him on anyone elses Team during Capture the Flag because he was pretty much the perfect defence. Aphrodite Cabin was torn between adoring his "cuteness", as they called it, and wanting to lash out at him for pulling attention away from them.

All that besides, he adored his Camp, moody teenagers and all.

"Harry, if you don't hurry, you'll be late to your own Birthday Party!" Aster cried, laughing as she danced out of the woods and swung the boy up into her arms, making him squeak in surprise at the nymphs unnaturally strong grip. She pressed a kiss to his temple, beaming beautifully down at him. Harry flushed, but smiled shyly back.

"Sorry, Miss Aster," he told her sheepishly. "I'm ready now." The nymph giggled and once more kissed his temple, before setting Harry down on his feet, clasping his hand in hers, and happily skipped off towards the Pavilion, laughing sweetly as Harry stumbled and jogged to keep up after her, laughing brightly in embarrassed amusement as he did so.

**~(Line Break)~**

"-Happy birthday, dear Harry," the group of Campers, nymphs, and Chiron sang, while Mr. D rolled his eyes boredly in the background and drank Diet Coke like it was moonshine. "Happy birthday to you~!" They cheered and Argus set a large cake in front of the now thirteen-year-old, and Harry couldn't help but laugh because it was shaped like a cartoon campfire, with two orange candles shaped like a one and a candles lit without anyone touching them, and Harry's grin widened as he found his Mum standing next to him with a warm, affectionate smile.

"Make a wish, my son," she told him softly, "then blow them out." Harry closed his eyes, and wished, fiercely, that he could always come back to Camp Half-Blood, and that all his friends would be happy. With a deep breath, he blew out the candles, green eyes gleaming with fire as the smoke from the extinguished candles danced in front of him, briefly forming a circle, Hestia's symbol, before disappearing.

"Presents!" The Stoll Brothers and the Star Twins shouted together, and Harry laughed as the cake was lifted away by Aster and her cousin, Artemisia, a younger nymph who looked about fifteen, with pale silver-green skin, luminous green eyes, platinum blond hair, and a crown-like wreath of wormwood, her plant, growing prettily like a headband on her head.

Harry suddenly found himself with a flurry of small, wrapped gifts in front of him, and the Stoll Brothers and Star Twins eyeing one another narrowly. Laughing, and deciding to try and stop the fight before it happened, the birthday-boy reached forward and plucked an orange-wrapped gift from the small pile, earning pouts from the two sets of his self-appointed older brothers, and a smug look from Louis Motor.

"Hephaestus Cabin gift," he told the boy, and Harry nodded, carefully unwrapping the gift, and blinking at the strange contraption in his hand. It was a pocket-knife, bronze colored, but the handle had a strange feel to it, and there was a little wheel on the edge. Confused, he looked to the Counselor, who smirked at him, showing off slightly-crooked teeth.

"It's a lighter-knife mix," he told the now-teenager simply. "In case you ever need some Fire, but you can't use your own, or are to tired to do so. The fluid is withing the handle and, whenever the blades and such are withdrawn, they're coated with the oil, and will light on fire. We've noticed that it's the only way you can even use a blade with any efficiency, brat," he teased; Harry grinned and quickly put the knife in his pocket, not wanting it to end up lost.

"Thank you, Louis!" He told the teen, who just nodded, before Harry dove into the rest of the presants.

Chiron had gotten him a guide to Latin for Hogwarts, to make it easier to use spells if he knew what they were trying to say. Aphrodite Cabin had gotten together and gotten him a few sets of clothing, all high-end, and Harry made sure to thank them warmly. Gods knows he hated having to wear the Dursleys cast-offs because he lacked anything else, besides his Weasley Sweaters, of course.

Ares Cabin got him a helmet with an orange plume on top, and Clarisse personally got him a white shirt with a giant red target on the back, laughing at the deadpan look Harry couldn't help sending her. Argus got him a kit of fancy and expensive-looking pens, quills, and inks, as well as an empty date-book, so he could keep his schedule better, which earned him a bright smile from the boy, the many-eyed security guard smirking kindly at him (he had gotten surprisingly close with the Immortal, with all the sandwiches said being had brought him when he was organizing the office or Mr. D's paperwork). Mr. D got him a snow-globe with a fire-colored koi that actually swam through the globe, magic'd. It was surprisingly amazing, and Harry spent several seconds, staring at it with wonder as the little fish "ate" the glittery "snow" that was falling around it.

Aster and her sister's provided him with a backpack made of plants that would never die, and would give anyone who broke into it (or, well, _tried_ to) a _nasty_ and obvious rash, and had thorns as a defense mechanism as well. Aster had also gotten him one of her flowers, imbued with magic so it wouldn't die, which he could renew when he returned the next summer.

The Hermes Cabin had provided the most diverse group of presents yet. Luke got him arm-guards and a brand new sleeping bag that was completely black on the outside, but for the pillow that came attached, which was green, like the inside of the bag itself. Charlie got him a book on practical jokes and a Whoopee Cushion, grinning the whole time. Mark got him a book on architecture, shrugging about it when Harry smiled at him for it. The Stoll Brothers got him his own pair of winged-shoes, stolen from their Father (Though, Harry seriously doubted they hadn't gotten his blessing, as Lord Hermes _was_ the God of Thieves, and no doubt knew what they were doing before they'd even _done_ it, so Harry considered it a gift from him as well).

They spent several minutes aiming smug looks at the Star Twins after Harry had eagerly thanked them. He did, after all, still _love_ to fly.

Several other members of the Hermes Cabin, Undetermined and Determined, gave him things like books on the Gods, buildings, history, to things like a black Divers watch, a set of new flame-design trainers, and a stuffed flame with a face that was apparently from some movie called _**Howl's Moving Castle**_ that Harry had never even heard of, but he thanked the Undertermined girl who had thought it was cute anyways.

The Star Twins stepped up quickly, before Harry could decide which gift to open next, and Harry found himself receiving three gifts. One was a stuffed leopard with bright green eyes, another was a wine bottle filled with sparkling white grape juice, and the last was a green ball-cap with a white front, that bore a Thyrsus staff wrapped in grape vines, the symbol of the Dionysus Cabin, and the God himself, her smirked sardonically at Harry when the boy sent him a questioning look, before the God toasted him with his can of Diet Coke and slouched further sideways in his chair.

Demeter Cabin gave him two bracelets of glass beads that made it look like he had fire-colored vines growing around his wrists which, while rather girly for his tastes, were still cool enough that he didn't feel bad wearing them, at least for a while. Apollo Cabin got him a book filled with healing prayers and other helpful spells that they used, though they were mostly the general ones which Harry would be able to do. Athena Cabin got him a hundred-dollar gift card to a book store called Barnes & Noble.

Finally, his mother stepped forward, and gave him two gifts and a small box, smiling at his curious look.

"That one is from my brother," she told him, pointing at the plain, black-wrapped box with a black bow on top. "The other is from me," she told him, pointing at the plain, brown box with an orange ribbon. "And the final one is from my Nephew, Hermes." She leaned forward and kissed Harry on the brown, her eight-year-old form shifting in a flicker of Flame, to become a thirteen-year-old, brown hair cut in a cute, mess bob wearing a brown dress with orange bows and lace.

"Happy Birthday, my joy," she whispered, hugging him tight with a warm smile, and Harry beamed, hugging her tightly back, green eyes glowing with fire. Once he was released, Harry opened his mother's gift first, and found a piece of folded parchment on top of an envelope and a brown knitted sweater, neatly folded to he could see that her symbol was on the front and, withing the plain circle of flame, was a large gold 'H'.

Just like a Weasley sweater.

Without a thought, Harry pulled it out and pulled it on, cheeks hurting from how wide he was smiling as he stroked the incredibly soft wool. Then, he dove back into the box and pulled out the parchment, unfolding it to find his long-forgotten permission slip to Hogsmeade, gaping at his Aunt Petunia's signature, until, when the light shifted, the writing blurred in front of him, and became a flickering flame that wrote out his Mum's name. Grinning, he thanked his mother, and noticed that the envelope was his Hogwarts Letter, which had been sent to Number Four Private Drive, the Second Smallest Room.

"How did you get this to go there?" Harry asked Hestia, befuddled. "Aren't they spelled?" Hestia smiled sweetly up at him, once more in the form of an eight-year-old.

"Oh, that's easy enough to circumvent, my Harry," she informed him easily. "I simply told the spell you were there." Harry blinked, tilting his head.

"You just _told_ the _spell_," he said slowly; Hestia chuckled softly, and reached up to stroke his cheek lovingly.

"I _am_ a Goddess, my child," she reminded him affectionately, and Harry grinned sheepishly at her, before she gestured at him to open his other gifts. With a shrug, he flicked open Lord Hermes small box, and found a gold necklace with a gold _caduceus _on it, much like a Muggle Crucifix. Blinking at it, Harry shrugged and pulled it on, admiring it before he tucked it under his sweater, and turned his attention onto the black present.

Curiously, he opened the box with the same care as all of his gifts, and found himself looking at the statue within with startled awe. It was a Cerberus, made of Stygian Iron (easily recognized from the unnatural chill and uneasy feeling it gave off naturally), set in an obsidian base made to look like flames. A tiny "river" curled in front of the dog, made up of some sort of green jewel and stone made a mini Styx. Each of the dogs heads had a different color of eyes. The middle head had bright red eyes that gleamed brightly, while the left head had pale, icy blue eyes, and the right had gleaming yellow. Carefully pulling the dog statue, which was about half-a-foot tall, from the box and onto the table, Harry found a not underneath, and quickly lifted it to read.

_**To My, Thus Far, Favorite Nephew,**_

_**I hope you find yourself with a relatively pleasant birthday. My gift may seem like nothing more than a statue, but it is, in fact, a Guardian, much like my actual pet is. It has been enchanted to defend you from any Monsters, and requires only to be told to Attack, in Greek, to obey.**_

_**It is, as I'm sure you have noticed, made up of my Kingdom's Iron, as well as Obsidian. The river is made of green Jadeite, Kornerupine, and a strange stone called Maw-Sit-Sit. The red eyes are Imperial Topaz, the blue are Larimar, and the yellow are Sphalerite.**_

_**I hope he treats you well.**_

_**Your Uncle,**_

_**Hades**_

_**P.S. I've been calling him Alika. He seems to like it.**_

Slowly, Harry sat the paper down, and stared at the statue, Alika, and smiled wondering as he pet it, feeling it thrum under his fingers.

"_Wicked_," he breathed, before shaking his head and pulling his fingers back, looking around. "Cake now?" He asked curiously and, laughing, the everyone agreed, and Aster passed out slices of cake, with Harry and Dionysus getting the larger pieces. The God look rather bored, but if he seemed to be smirking rather smugly and preening, every time he saw Harry wearing the hat with his symbol on it, well, no one really noticed.

All in all, for a first birthday party, it was an amazing one, and Harry fell into an exhausted sleep that night, in his new sleeping bag, cuddling his stuffed leopard and fire-plushy, and Alika sitting next to his head, Harry had a smile, even in his sleep.

**~(Line Break)~**

"Come along, my Harry," Hestia called gently to the sleepy-eyed boy, smiling as she looked down at her son, wearing the form of an adult, the very same form she'd worn the day she'd picked him up at the Platform.

"Coming, Mum," he muttered, absently rubbing at one eye while he took a bite of the chocolate, chocolate-chip muffin Aster had put into his groggy hand with an amused grin. Hestia chuckled, and wrapped her arms around her son before, in a burst of Sacred Fire, the two disappeared.

Seconds later, they were stepping out of a fireplace in Gringotts, and, as the over-eager Fire all but threw him out, the only thing the kept Harry standing, skin pale and green-tinged, was Hestia's hold around him.

"Not going to get used to that for a while," he groaned with a shudder, earning a tender smile from Hestia, who kissed his forehead gently in response.

"Heir Potter," A gravelly voice piped up from to the side; Harry turned, and smiled at the sight of his Account Manager.

"Griphook!" He greeted, nausea pushed to the back of his mind as Hestia released him so he could trot over o the Goblin's side. "Who are you? How's the promotion going for you?" The Goblin smiled, baring his fangs nastily as a nearby Weigher sniffed and turned away with a dark scowl.

"_Wonderfully_," the Goblin hissed, serpent-like, and Harry smiled at the evident pleasure his (friend?) acquaintance had in his new position.

"That's great!" He chirped, nodding at Griphook easily. "Is there anything important I need to know about, before I get a new key and get some coins for my school supplies?" The Goblin arched an eyebrow and sneered up at him, small, dark eyes gleaming.

"There is some things we must discuss, and I shall be the one to get you your new key, anyways," Griphook told him snappily, made a hooked 'follow me' gesture with his long, gnarled fingers. "Come." the Goblin turned and stalked off, while Harry shrugged, bid his mother farewell, and trotted after the surprisingly swift little Goblin. They entered a side-door to the main Gringott's Bank atrium, and down a hallway towards an office that had a neat, bras nameplate that simply read _Griphook_.

"Nice," Harry complimented, and the Goblin smirked sharply up at him and, with a single drag of his claw across the nameplate, as if he was striking out his own name, the door unlocked and opened, into a neat brown-and-copper colored office, with a mahogany desk, and dark wooded chairs with dark green seat coverings.

"Have a seat, Heir Potter," the Goblin ordered sharply, as he stalked around his desk and up into his chair; Harry shrugged and obeyed, the door closing behind him and a golden wave coiling around the room briefly. "Privacy Ward," the Goblin told him before Harry even opened his mouth to ask; with a sheepish smile, Harry nodded at him, and Griphoot steepled his fingers and peered at the thirteen-year-old Wizard over his thin, silver-rimmed rectangular glasses.

"First, I would like to inform you that your Accounts have prospered properly, and I have taken the liberty of investing the allowed two hundred Galleons all Account Managers have access to, and all of said investments have brought in more than thrice the amount used on each," the Goblin informed him frankly, completely business-like, with only darkly lowered brows reminding him of his usual cantankerous attitude, warning Harry not to interrupt... Not that Harry was. He liked having this sort of thing explained to him, because there was always some confusion legal-script in the ledgers and statements that always managed to get him lost.

"A full Audit has been made against all guilty parties and all Accounts once held by your previous Account Manager, and all losses due to interference and sabotage have been refunded, with interest," Griphook informed him calmly. "As it would be a breach of the Gringotts Privacy Contract, so you will have to deal with it." Harry quickly nodded at the narrowed look he received, clasping his hands in his lap nervously.

"Your main accounts have seen an increase by four-point-nine-seven percent since I have taken them on, and look to round that into a full five percent by December," the Goblin continued, reaching into a drawer and pulling out a piece of parchment with a silver sheen. "Please press a finger to this sheet," he told the boy. "There will be a sharp, stinging sensation, briefly, and the paper will glow. This signifies the subsequent destruction of all previous keys and all copies made, by Gringotts or illegally, and will list all copies and such on a separate piece of parchment I will pursue later. Your new key shall appear, and then I can continue, and we can begin discussing an important matter that has come to our attention here at Gringotts." The Goblin fell silent, and just gave Harry a Look, which had the thirteen-year-old swiftly scooting forward and pressing a finger to the parchment.

There was a brief sting, like a sharp pinch of a needle and a buzzing edge of static combined, before the paper flashed into silver flames and disintegrated, leaving behind a simple gold key behind, which Griphook scooped up and, without so much as a by-your-leave (not that Harry honestly expected one, but it would have been a pleasant surprise) the Goblin grabbed the boy's still-extended finger and pressed it to the round end of the key, before spitting something in the Goblin Tongue.

Harry yelped as there was a harsh _bite_ to the end of his finger, and the key glowed, even as he managed to yank his hand back and press it protectively to his chest, giving Griphook a wide, startled look as he cradled his abused finger. The Goblin rolled his eye and put the key on the dusk, pushing it towards the boy with a single, long finger.

"It's now warded against anyone but you," the Goblin informed him bitingly, leaning back in his chair and interlocking his fingers on his desk, looking at Harry over his glasses with such disapproval, lips pursed, as if Harry was being ridiculous and childish, and Harry flushed and hunched automatically, shifting uncomfortably in his chair and offering a hesitant, sheepish smile, earning an arched eyebrow and a 'hmm' sound, before the Goblin decided to move on.

"Now, the business that has been brought up, is that one Sirius Orion Black, the Lord of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black, has escaped Azkaban Prison, which is the most secure Wizarding Prison in Europe, and on par with the Wizarding Prison Nurmengard. Not _only_ has he escaped, however, but during our routine examination of the Black Holdings, it has come to our attention that he was never placed under the _Incarcerated_ label, meaning that he has not received a proper trial, and therefore, is uncharged." Harry frowned, brows furrowed.

"Well, that's horrible, yes," he told the Goblin, confused. "But I've no idea what it's supposed to do with me, Griphook." The Goblin's eyes narrowed sharply, and his lips pulled slowly back from his teeth, pointed ears seeming to quiver tensely for a moment.

"Are you telling me, Heir Potter," he started slowly, a growl edging his voice even as he hissed, "that no one had informed you of your connection with Lord Black?"

"Well, yeah," Harry told him, shrugging with confusion. "But I _have_ been in America all summer, so I suppose that could be it?" The Goblin growled something in his Native Language, which, by the tone, could be a curse or the name of whoever he was angry at, Harry decided not to ask.

"It does not matter _where_ you are, Heir Potter," he informed the boy tartly, "your Magical Guardian, who is being reviewed and thus cannot be named here, was required, _by Law_, to inform you and those whom you were staying with, of any threat that may come into being. Believe me, this _will_ be brought to the Director's attention." He reached up and shifted his glasses, growling under his breath to himself for a second, before clearing his throat, linking his fingers once more, and peering at Harry somberly, not even sneering.

"Lord Black was not only a dear friend of your parents," the Goblin told him bluntly, ignoring Harry's sharp intake, "but also named you Godfather. With the deaths of your parents, you were supposed to go to him. However, it was discovered that your family home had been under a very powerful Ward called the _Fidelius Charm_, which is a spell that hides everything it covered from sight, with only one person, a Secret Keeper, able to tell anyone about its location. It was believed at the time that, as your Father's 'Best Mate'," here, the sneer returned full-force at the 'human' term, "Lord Black was the Secret Keeper. When the Dark Lord went to your house and, apparently, met his demise alongside your parents, you _should_ have gone first to St. Mungos Hospital, and then to Lord Black's care."

"_However_, this did not happen," the Goblin's voice edged into a sarcastic tone that screamed '_obviously_'. "Not even a week afterward, Lord Black was found, having chased down one Peter Pettigrew, another of your parents friends. Eyewitnesses then report that Mr. Pettigrew screamed for all and sundry that Lord Black murdered your parents, demanding to know why before, _somehow_," and here, Griphook's fangs were bared in disgust for the report he had apparently read, "Lord Black, without moving his wand or saying a word, not _only_ blew up Mr. Pettigrew, leaving nought but a finger behind, but _also_ the street _behind himself_, and thirteen muggles that were there. When Aurors, the Wizarding Police," he informed Harry when the boy looked confused at the as-yet unknown term, before the Goblin continued with his tale, "arrived at the scene, they found Black laughing 'maniacally'..." He snorted, disgusted. "More likely he was hysterical at the stupidity of his fellow Wizards, but that is neither here nor there," the Goblin grumbled, and Harry couldn't help but grin, even as his heart was raising, along with his thoughts.

"My _point_, Heir Potter, is that, because of all this, it is believed that Lord Black as escaped for the sole purpose of killing you to 'avenge' his 'Lord'." The Goblin leaned back, and fell silent, watching Harry as the thirteen-year-old struggled to absorb everything, rubbing his scar as it itched, frowning heavily as he stared at the edge of Griphook's desk.

He had a Godfather. One who had apparently never received a trial, and had spent the last twelve years in a high-security prison, only to escape and apparently want vengeance... Either on Harry or on others, most probably the latter.

There had been a _horrible_ miscarriage of justice here... And Harry knew just what to do.

With green eyes glowing with Fire, Harry lifted his gaze and locked it with his Account Manager, who stiffened faintly at the inhuman sight, fingers tightening briefly against one another in response.

"May I have a parchment and quill, Griphook?" he asked the Goblin seriously. "I have a letter to write." The Goblin nodded warily, opened a drawer, and handed over the require materials. "Thank you, Griphook. Do you mind if I use this side of your desk to write it?" The Goblin shrugged and gestured to him, but said nothing, sitting back and blatantly staring at Harry, eyes half-lidded and slightly narrowed in consideration.

Harry wrote carefully, making sure not to blot or tear the parchment, as he carefully wrote. Finally, he was finished, and accepted the envelope Griphook immediately handed him, with a mild 'thank you' to the Goblin, who continued to remain silent. Once the ink was dry, Harry folded the letter and slid it into the envelope, wrote the name and address require on it, and pulled a few drachma from his pocket.

As soon as he dropped the coins on the envelope, they disappeared in a flash of light, and Harry sat back, feeling satisfied.

"It will be dealt with, Griphook," he informed his Account Manager simply, and smiled at the Goblin. "Now, would you like to go over anything else? Or may I collect some coins to go and get my supplies?" Griphook shook his head, and pulled a string that had been subtly hidden behind his desk. Soon, there was a knock on the door, which opened after Griphook snarled something in Goblin language. Another Goblin waddled in, sneering darkly and dressed like Griphook once was.

"Flailstrike will take you to your Vault, Heir Potter," Griphook informed him snappily; Harry nodded, thanked him, and followed the new Goblin out. Once the door had shut, Griphook leaned back and stared at it consideringly.

"Harry Potter," he muttered, and made an annoyed 'hmph' sound, before getting back to his paperwork.

**~(Line Break)~**

Zeus stared narrowly at the letter he'd just received from his Nephew, and a low, roll of thunder echoed through the sky. With a flash of lightning, he stood and stormed through Olympus.

"Hera!" He bellowed. "I've work to do amongst the mortals. I will return swiftly." And, without waiting for any acknowledgement, the God King disappeared in a horrendous crash of thunder, with only one thought popping up in his mind as he considered the case of one Sirius Orion Black.

_My Nephew gains me too much paperwork_.

**A/N:** Ta-Da! Took forever, I apologize.

All Gems are beautiful, google image that shit.

Alika means Guardian in Greek (It's Hades. It was either Alika or Ermolai, which meant Heap of Stones, but it was a _metal_ statue, so (Shrugs))

Dionysus animal is the Leopard, the stuffed fire from _**Howl's Moving Castle**_ is Calcifer.

**GREEK CORNER**

Zeus doesn't, technically, have an Heir.

"What?" You say. "But he has Ares with Hera! And Dionysus, who is his actual kid!"

Well, yes, but see, this is what's up:

Zeus wanted an Heir that was stronger than everyone else, but weaker than him (He didn't want to be Kronos in this scenario). Ares is too "Booyah, battle! Fuck yeah! Whoo!" to be a good King, and doesn't _want_ to be king anyways.

_Technically_, Dionysus was not _only_ the strongest next to Zeus, but the perfect Heir...

Until the First Titan War.

During this war, the Titans tried to get Dionysus on their side, sending a Giant to convince him, but he refused. So, angered, the Giant appeared to try and win him over with a bunch of gifts.

One of these gifts was a mirror.

When Dionysus looked into this mirror, the Giant smashed it into a million pieces and Dionysus, reflection trapped, was shattered as well, his power fractured.

Now, the tale went two ways:

1 - he literally exploded with a scream

2 - he fragmented and all his pieces went across the planet

The point of this story, however, was that Dionysus was _ruined_ by this action. No longer one of the strongest Gods, he became one of the weakest of the Twelve, and, in fact, it was said that _this_ was when he became the God of Madness, mind fractured like a broken mirror.

This is also where the "Broken Mirrors = Bad Luck" superstition formed.

And, another little note, it was wondered if one of these fragments of Dionysus, trapped within a mirror, is what Narcissus _actually_ fell in love with, rather than his own reflection...

So, there you go...

Oh, and, on a completely unrelated note, according to this baby name site I was just on, Bacchus means "Make a Loud Noise" and he's the Roman equivalent of a Party God (Giggles)

**When I Finished Typing This Chapter**

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	12. Chapter 12

**A/N:** Loving the Reviews, y'all~! ^-^ Danke!

**When I Started Typing This Chapter:**

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**For Want of Family**

**Chapter Twelve**

September first came too soon, as far as Harry was concerned. Looking at the bright red engine of the Hogwarts Express, the thirteen-year-old sighed mournfully, and lifted a hand to the black cord around his neck, ignoring the gold chain. Tugging the cord, he pulled out the Camp Bead he'd gotten at before he had left. The bead was a disk, edged in painted fire so it made Hestia's symbol, and, in the center, was a hammer, screwdriver, and nail that made a rather neat image of Hades Helm of Darkness.

Luke told him that it symbolized his entrance to Camp as the Firstborn of Hestia, and his efforts in building the Hades Cabin.

With another sigh, Harry glanced at the Platform's clock, and took notice that he had a good while before departure, which explained why the Platform was almost deserted-looking. With a shrug, he climbed on board the Express, and went searching for a compartment, which he found with ease. Settling in next to the window, Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out his trunk and Alika, grinning at the rather disgruntled-looking Cerberus Statue as he stroked a finger down its back, making it re-size, before he pressed the required place on his trunk after setting it on the rack.

"You ready to see a magic school, Alika?" He asked the statue softly, settling down and petting it, as he pulled his Third Year Potions textbook out of his bag. The statue, which _was_ rather sentient even if it couldn't move a lot or make any noise in this state, seemed to perk up, three pairs of pointed ears lifting, bobbed tail moving very slowly side to side, jewel-eyes glowing. Harry smiled and stroked a hand down the statue's back again, before opening his book and beginning to read.

He may have hated Snape, and the way the git taught, but he had always found Potions fascinating and, in a proper environment without Slytherin Sabotage and incompetent partners, he was actually rather alright. Not amazing or always right, but he could make all the potions from First through Third Year alright... Just don't ask him for anything fancy, and keep it to the general potions, especially healing ones, and he could give you one.

Letting out a pleased hum, Harry got to reading, and waited for the train to leave.

**~(Line Break)~**

What the hell?" One of Cedric's friends exclaimed as the train came to a sudden stop, nearly knocking the Sixth Year from his seat, as Harry quickly caught Alika before the Guardian could fall. He took notice that the Cerberus had his ears pinned and his lips beginning to pull back from his sharp teeth, shoulders hunching, and, as the lights suddenly went out, Harry couldn't help but huddle back against Cedric as the Son of Apollo set a hand on his shoulder and tried to peer out the window, only for it to quickly be encased in frost.

"Oh no," he breathed, just as a horrible feeling of dread seemed to filled the room, and Harry felt his breath stuttering in his chest as somewhere, a woman started to scream.

"Who is that? Who's screaming?!" He asked, voice starting to turn shrill, eyes wide, as Fire began to dance under his skin, lighting up the room in flickering glow, and, slowly, warmth seemed to seep back into the compartment, and the screaming faded off to a distant buzzing as Harry's shivers went down.

"Merlin," one of the Sixth Years, a boy named Jeremiah Fedele, a Muggleborn, breathed, brown eyes wide. "What's he doing?"

"Does it matter?" Cedric snapped at his friend, squeezing Harry's shoulder gently. "My Dad said that there _would_ be Dementors at Hogwarts, until Sirius Black is found, at least," he informed them leaning to try and peer once more through the frosted window. "At least, until that Lawyer, Terrill Othin, finds him." The Lawyer in question (who Harry knew was actually Zeus) had been tearing so many holes in the Ministry over Sirius Black's lack of trial, and there had been a huge, freak storm over England for three days, when it was discovered that there were _fifteen people_ who had been tossed in Azkaban without a trail both before and since Black. Harry had woken up the day after the storm had quieted, with a small note thanking him for brining such a case to Zeus' attention, and that he would look into Hades getting a Throne. Harry had been very pleased at the time.).

"Dementors?!" Yelped Jeremiah, going deathly pale, while the other two Sixths Years in the compartment (Westley Mathers and Marius Bletherbee, both Purebloods from small, minor lines), had pulled out there wands and were watching the door nervously. "Does anyone know how to cast the Patronus?!" The three older boys shook their heads, but, before more could be said, the door shuddered, and the five of them moved close to the window, Harry turning Alika towards the door as the Guardian began to vibrate with a silent growl, and the Cerberus looked fierce.

"Oh no," Cedric whispered again, as the Flames under Harry's skin did little to combat the renewed dread and cold, as the door slowly slid open, a rotted hand holding it.

As the woman began to scream again, Harry choked on the frigid air in his lungs, and raised a viciously trembling hand to point a finger at the dark, cloaked creature in the doorway, it's rattling breathing seeming to suck what little warmth his Flames had provided, right out of Harry's _bones_.

"A-Alika," Harry choked out, gasping. "_επιτίθεμαι_!" _Attack_, he thought as his vision started to gray out, and his Flames started sputtering under his skin, the cold growing to intense.

_Attack_.

There was a bright, ominous purple light, and, suddenly, a deep, vicious growl, the sound echoing three-fold, before the thirteen-year-olds vision came back into sharp focus as his Fire _roared_ within him as the wraith, the _Dementor_ screeched, and was forced from the room by the black "furred" form of the enlarged Alika. Now standing at six-foot at the shoulder, the Cerberus bared black fangs, red, blue, and yellow eyes glowing as it snarled and lunged forward. It's fangs sank into the creature, who _screamed_ in pain, the sound forcing Harry and the four Sixth Years to cry out, clamping their hands on their ears at the piercing cry, before the Dementor burst into _silver_ dust, which swirled around Alika, who glowed eerily, before the dust disappeared. The Ceberus turned and stared at the five boys, before taking a step forward towards Harry.

"Alika," Harry whispered hoarsely, and the Guardian's bob-tail wagged tentatively, ears perking. Harry sighed and slumped against Cedric, eyes closing. "Good boy, Alika," he murmured; the Cerberus' three heads all barked and grinned, before the beast glowed with that ominous purple light, and vanished, reappearing as its usual statue back in place on the seat next to Harry, only sitting down and relaxed. Harry shakily reached out and stroked a hand down the dogs back, and blinked as he noticed a single, tiny silver spot on the dogs rump. There was a small flash of light, and a piece of paper floated in the air, until Harry caught it, and cautious unfolded it to read as the lights turned back on.

_**Nephew,**_

_**I see you've been forced to use my gift. Helpful, isn't he? Whatever monster you used him on, however, wasn't one of ours, but a Magical Creature (and I **_**will**_** be informing you Mother about how close you were to one of those "**_**Dementors**_**". Really, **_**what**_** are they teaching you at that school?). You probably noticed the silver dust, yes? And that your Guardian most likely now has a silver spot, correct?**_

_**This is because Stygian Iron does not let a Monster it's killed reform back in Tartarus, unlike Celestial Bronze and Imperial Gold. Instead, it absorbs them. Should you run into one of the usual Monsters, and are forced to use Alika, he will gain gold spots as well. He will get stronger, the more you use him, as well as more sentient, so beware that, my nephew.**_

_**Smart dogs are bothersome.**_

_**Also, take care, for Stygian Iron **_**can**_** harm mortals, and, should you pet kill one, well, the spots it gains will not be nearly as pretty.**_

_**Now, I must be getting back to my paperwork. I hope you enjoy your year at that ridiculous school.**_

_**You Uncle,**_

_**Hades**_

"Merlin, Potter," Marius breathed, as the note in Harry's hand turned to ashes and blew away. "I'm never going to complain about having to babysit you again. Sorry," he sputtered as Harry gave him a half-hearted glare and Cedric scowled at his friend.

There was a knock at the door, and a man with graying dirty-blond hair, a lightly scarred face, and gleaming tawny eyes peered in at them, want at the ready and a silvery-white wolf at his side.

"Alright in here?" He asked them hoarsely.

"Yes, sir," Cedric told him tiredly, reaching up and dragging his fingers through his hair with a weak smile.

"I thought I heard a scream?" the man said carefully, pulling out a large bar of Honeyduke's Chocolate, and handing out pieces. "That will help ward off the cold Dementors leave," he informed them, and Harry didn't hesitate to shove his in his mouth, shivering as he pulled his Fire once more toward the surface, feeling his skin flicker with the warmth.

"There was a Dementor, but Potter's statue attacked it and ate it," Jeremiah declared, pointing at the statue, and Harry found himself flushing as the man, who was probably their Defense Teacher of the Year (Idly, he wondered what would happen to _this_ one, before school was over), stared, dumbfounded, at Alika, who Harry immediately pulled closer to his side.

"It... What?" The man asked; Harry sighed.

Just another Year at Hogwarts.

**~(Line Break)~**

Harry wasn't sure how to feel about the boy Cedric had just introduced him to, after dragging the Demigod over to the Hufflepuff Table for the Welcoming Feast (Something that was, apparently, allowed, because Professor Sprout had written Harry's name on the "List of Approved Honorary Hufflepuffs" which allowed him to eat at their table and visit their Dorm, but not actually making him a Hufflepuff... It was some sort of ancient thing that Harry couldn't, for the life of him, understand _why_ it existed, but, well, there you go...).

Zacharias Smith, while in Harry's Year, was not one to venture outside his House to make friends, nor socialize (not that he did much _within_ his House, from what Harry had noticed). It was surprising to Harry, since the boy _was_ very good-looking, with golden blond hair, chocolate-brown eyes, and a long, lanky form...

"_What_," the boy hissed, sneering at Harry, "is _he_ doing here?" His brown eyes were bright with dislike and suspicion, and the sneer that curled his mouth lent him a rather nasty expression.

_Ah_, Harry thought with realization. _That's why..._

"Pipe down, Smith," Cedric ordered with a small frown. "Introduce yourself, _politely_," he added, eyes narrowing as Smith's mouth curled further. "You're a Pureblood, as you so like reminding everyone, _act_ like it." Smith lost his sneer, sniffing and forcing his face into a somewhat blank, distant mask.

"Zacharias Smith, Son of Aphrodite," he bit out coolly and offering his hand with obvious reluctance; Harry blinked warily, and sent an uncertain glance to the side at Cedric, before hesitantly taking the offered limb.

"Harry Potter, Son of Hestia," the Gryffindor replied softly; for a moment, Smith's face twitched, his eyes widening and his mouth opening a bit with surprise, before he got a hold of himself and snapped his slightly-imperfect mask back into place.

"I'd say it was a pleasure, but my Family has a long-standing feud with the Potters," he informed the boy coolly, dropping his hand with another sniff and pointedly wiping his hand on a 'kerchief. Harry struggled not to let it get to him.

"Why?" He asked instead, biting down on his temper with the firm reminder that he _really_ didn't want another Malfoy following him about, taunting and challenging him.

It got _old_.

Smith's brown eyes narrowed, taking in Harry's face sharply, before apparently deciding to humor him.

"My Family is descended from Helga Hufflepuff herself," he announced arrogantly. "We even had a proof, and artifact passed down from generation to generation from Helga herself. My Great Aunt Hepzibah Smith was the last to hold it, and _she_ was _murdered_ by her House Elf. Do you know who found her?" He demanded; Harry, wide-eyed and confused, shook his head hesitantly, and Smith's sneer returned, with a biting edge of anger. "A _Potter_ found her. When my Grandfather, as Head of the Smith Family, went to collect our Artifact from her home the next week, as was his due, well, how _convenient_ it was, that it had disappeared, when _everyone_ knows that the Potters are descendants of _Gryffindor_." He scoffed nastily, and Harry frowned.

"How does that make any sense?" He asked the other thirteen-year-old, honestly lost. "So, a House Elf kills your Great Aunt, one of my relatives finds her, and a _week later_, your Artifact was missing? How does that _automatically_ mean a _Potter_ did it?" He shook his head, bemused. "It's more likely that someone broke in, I mean, there _are _Wizarding Thieves, yeah?" Zacharias face faltered, uncertainty flashing in his eyes, before his sneer returned full force.

"Of course _you'd_ say that, _Potter_," he hissed, andjerked himself to his feet to storm off down the table and find a seat with the Second Years. Harry shook his head and turned confused eyes on Cedric, who shrugged.

"Don't mind him, Harry," he advised, before one of his friends called him over and, as a Prefect, he went to greet them politely. Harry shook his head, and decided to just pay attention to the Sorting, and then to his food, staying silent as those around him (Cedric had sat him at the edge of the Fourth Years and told the one directly next to him to just make sure no one bothered the younger Demigod) didn't seem all that inclined to talk to him.

When the Feast was over, and nearly everyone was yawning heavily, Harry bid his Hufflepuff friends goodnight, and wandered over to join the rest of the Gryffindors, reminding himself that his mother had told him to stay in the Dorms for the first month, before moving into what he still called The Fairy Glade Room.

"Hey, Harry!" Ron greeted cheerfully when Harry reached the room. "Why were you over and eating with the 'Puffs?" Harry stared at him disbelievingly, and looked around the room, taking in the equally disbelieving and incredulous looks of Dean, Seamus and Neville.

"Oh, are we friends then?" Harry asked the redhead, deciding that he wasn't going to deal with this all year; Ron blinked, befuddled.

"Er, well, yeah, Harry," the redhead told him slowly, like _he_ was being the weird one. "We're best mates!" Harry blinked at him, and grit his teeth, eyes narrowing.

"That's funny, see," Harry told him coldly, "because, last I checked? _Best Mates_ don't turn their backs on each other. They don't _break their best mate's nose_. And they _definitely_," he growled, "tell their _best mate's_ that they should have died with thier _parents_." Surprisingly, while Ron only winced and went pale, Neville's face went from stunned horror to bright-eyed, silent rage, seething as Dean and Seamus stared at the redhead in horror and disgust.

"Er, well, y-you know how, um, how upset I was," Ron tried to explain it, fidgeting and not meeting Harry's eyes.

"Save it, Ron," he ordered quietly, walking past him and towards his bed, pausing to pet Alika, who had been placed on his bedside table. "There is nothing you could say that would make us friends again... Goodnight, guys," Harry told the rest of his dormmates, before changing into his pajamas and closing his bed curtains, ignoring Ron completely.

When he finally fell asleep, Harry dreamed he was back at Camp, sitting next to the campfire with his Mum, while the other campers sang songs with the Apollo Cabin, and Mr. D occasionally had to grudgingly stand and give some announcement or the other.

It was a good dream, even if it _did_ leave him homesick.

**A/N:** Here you guys go!

Oh, and Zeus, in his Lawyer Persona, is named Tirrell Othin because:

Terrill - English name, means Thunder Ruler

Othin - Norwegian Name, means God of the Sky

His name is now, legit, Thunder Ruler, God of the Sky.

I am awesome.

Okay, so, to answer a couple of questions:

Hestia did _not_ get Harry a Weasley Sweater, she got him a Hestia Sweater that _reminded_ him of the Weasley Sweaters.

Hestia didn't really _need_ the Basilisk Corpse, nor did she really _do_ anything with it, but the Gods love to receive gifts like that, and the more impressive, the more they'll like you, and Hestia hasn't had anything sacrificed to her in _ages_.

Harry _**Did Not**_ get bitten by the Basilisk. The sword he pulled from the hat, when covered in his Sacred Fire, cut THROUGH the Basilisks fangs and saved him from getting bitten.

Hestia is the Firstborn Daughter of Kronos, and USED to be one of the Main Twelve but, when Dionysus was brought to Olympus after successfully becoming a God, she WILLINGLY stepped down so that there wouldn't be any awkwardness or fighting. She's a humble Goddess, and didn't really like that throne anyway. She much prefers sitting in front of a fire and tending it as it's hers.

As a Son of Hestia, and a Firstborn, Harry is stronger than your average Demigod, but not Godly nor as strong as a Twice-Born. His abilities are: Pyrokinetic (With Sacred Fire, also, he cannot be burned), Minor Empathy (He can connect really well with others, can emote a soothing and calming aura, is harder to fight because others don't want to hurt him, but cannot stand trying to seriously hurt others, with exceptions such as they hurt his loved ones and things like that), and he becomes stronger when protecting a Home.

The Horcrux is still there. The Gods can't remove it, because Harry is connected to a Prophesy as is Tom Riddle, and so they have to let the Prophesy see through it's course (Remember the last time someone messed with a prophesy? Hint: Luke ran into him).

This is, at this time, the Third Year for Harry (Prisoner of Azkaban) and a year before Lightning Thief. I'm following through BOTH book series.

The reason why there are so many Demigods at Hogwarts, when it's usually super rare to have even ONE at a school, is because Hogwarts is the school for the _entire_ United Kingdom and a few other places. That means that there are people at Hogwarts from: England, Wales, Ireland, Scottland, Greenland, Norway & Denmark (Though that's a little more iffy), and all the small islands around it. That is a _lot_ of space to consider, so there is _bound_ to be a bunch of Demigods, as it's practically several _countries_ in one place.

These are not all the questions asked, but I don't want to make this super-long (Too late, oops)

If y'all have any more questions, please don't hesitate! ^-^

**Kudos to **_**percyjacksonfan135**_** for suggesting I bring Zacharias in!**

**Greek Corner**

You Guys.

There is a backward Hippogriff.

It's called a Hippalectryon.

It has the front half and head (Sometimes, _only_ the head) of a horse, and the back half/body of a bird (usually a rooster, giant vulture, or eagle). It could be tamed and ridden like a Pegasus, only, because it looks so damn weird, most people didn't bother.

You guys.

_Horse headed chicken herds running around_.

I am _totally_ going to make Harry ride one, I swear to God, holy shit lolz!

What do you guys thing?

**When I Finished Typing This Chapter:**

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